


RWBY: Resolve

by PrognisAldiev



Category: RWBY
Genre: OC, Other, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrognisAldiev/pseuds/PrognisAldiev
Summary: Underneath the story you know, behind the scenes of Beacon and RWBY, another plot unfolds, running parallel to but never altering the facts. Corporations reach for power, students struggle against their less desirable fates, and devious schemes go unnoticed in the dark... a tale of misfortune, sacrifice, and Resolve unfurls alongside the canon plot, not changing a thing about the canon of the actual show.When a young boy finds himself aimed at the difficult road of a Huntsman, he has to learn more about himself and others than he ever cared to. Struggling to overcome his own distinct weakness compared to his peers, using his cunning and intellect to just enough effect to scrape by, Obaz has a great deal of pain, unease, and heartbreak ahead... possibly more than even those destined for greater things than he.This story is currently at 75 chapters. I'll be uploading one or more per day on here, but if you want to skip the middleman, it's on Fanfiction.net under the same author name and story name.





	1. Set in Motion

It was a small office for a small business. The blinds were drawn shut; the walls a basic sullen gray worn with age. The carpet was a smidge brighter in shade to the walls, the ceiling light barely enough to manageably light the office itself and choked out by the ambient dust. A furnished desk with various papers, an inkwell and pen, paperweight, and filing system neatly organized atop the surface sat nearly center to the room, leaving space for two uncomfortable chairs before it and a reclinable leather one behind it. The room was silent apart from the muffled noises of labor just outside, occasionally reaching volumes that could become audible from there. The office was quaint and defined, and a meeting was taking place inside.

At the desk in his leather chair sat a man in his late sixties, whose white hair still maintained a few flecks of black just as his short beard did. He wore a fine white shirt and overalls of a faded blue, and his dark green eyes held a certain spark that someone of his position should be lacking. They briefly shone with a deep wisdom that he seemed to be preparing to impart, hands folded on top of his desk, and his teeth absently ground together every few seconds as he met eyes with the younger fellow standing across from where he sat.

“Do you understand why I’ve called you in here?”

The much younger man kept a straight posture, having politely refused taking a seat. He had hair the shade of dirty blonde reminding one of a light bruise only now healing up, ending without much caretaking near his jawline, which tensed upon hearing the question posed to him. Anxiously, he pinched the brim of his denim worker’s hat and lowered it slightly, hiding his face even further than his bangs that ended at the tip of his nose. Smeared with grease and oils of all kinds, his clothes and hands would have appeared strange were this not almost directly attached to the factory floor.

“No, I am not aware of the reason, Mr. Petto.”

This Mr. Petto heaved a great sigh, the pause longer than necessary as he had hoped the employee would say more, but to no avail.  
“You know better than to call me that, Obaz. I took you in for a reason, you know... But that’s beside the point. How long has it been? Two weeks?”  
Obaz immediately corrected Petto down to a pinpoint;

“Fifteen days, five hours, twenty-two minutes. Sir.”

Another sigh fell from Mr. Petto’s lungs as Obaz still remained stiff as a board. Letting his hands separate and lay flat in front of him, Mr. Petto prepared himself for what could be an emotional event. For him at least. Seeing as they weren’t getting anywhere, he began the slow climb that was communication.

“Let me tell you straight, Obaz; you have potential. Potential that goes beyond repairing heavy machinery for a small automotive factory, but still far, far from realized. You’re so young... do you know how many kids your age I see with dreams of being something more? Something like a hero?”

Obaz paused to consider the question, despite it having been rhetorical.

“A rough estimate based on your age, lines of work in your past experience and personality would lead me to about... one hundred, give or take twenty, that you have seen.”

Petto’s hand covered his face as he lurched to the side, willing his patience not to wear out too soon. After a moment’s recuperation in dead silence, he spoke up.

“I’ve met with many, Obaz. So many kids with stars in their eyes and dreams you could practically hold, they believed it so. Just seeing you stand there, hands at your sides, it speaks volumes about you. I want you to reconsider.”

"It speaks volumes, none of which cover combat. We have had this talk, Griswold -I do not want to be a Huntsman, and I think you are wrong. Even a military position would make more sense to my skill set than becoming what you think I should. I simply don't have the skill to put me at the right position in this field..." He trailed off.

Mr. Petto sighed in agreement of this conversation's repetition, despite feeling the need to draw it back up. "Yes, it's true, you're not as talented as most of those who chase the dream. You haven't put your mind to it... but given enough time, enough practice, you could be."

"More time than I care to spend doing what I feel no calling towards."

There was another long silence. Obaz softly tapped a boot behind him to shift the obnoxious object that was caught inside, waiting for the conversation to reach a climax of some kind. After some stubborn lack of cooperation, Mr. Petto jumped straight to the point;

“As the closest thing to a father you have, I’ve decided that this job isn't benefiting you enough. I’ve pulled a few strings, and you’re being tried into Beacon. Impress them, and you can take courses as a student there.”

Beacon; the school where fledgling huntsmen and huntresses are trained to fight the Grimm -the place Obaz had just said he didn't want to be... As Griswold had stated, dozens of young ones had come to him in hopes of a referral. Now, Obaz' mouth pressed into a thin, wider line than it just was, a tic Petto had come to recognize as intent to argue. While normally Obaz merely added a fact or opinion to a conversation when he deemed the moment right, he had expected the lad to actually fight this road he was being set on despite it being what others would die for.

“Isn’t that rather presumptuous of you? I am pressed to think this is for your peace of mind- being the retired hunter that you are, with no children to follow in your footsteps you’re giving in to the temptation of using me as a substitute.”

No matter how often it happened, when words spilled from Obaz with purpose past simple enlightenment they stung like hell. That wasn’t to say it happened often, only when there was a stronger disagreement being held. Mr. Petto was no exception here, but being used to it by now he pressed on.

“See, that’s exactly why I think you need this. You might be smart but you’re a social train wreck, son. Surrounded by peers, you might learn to pull your punches.”

“So I am to attend a school teaching me primarily how to hunt beasts, in order to learn how to ‘pull my punches’. That does not sound right.” At times Obaz’ attempts to argue were easily seen through for being too literal. Petto actually managed a chuckle knowing the boy hadn’t been trying to be funny.

“Of course not, it was a figure of speech. Obaz, you can’t work effectively with others at all. In spite of what you might think, that is an important part of this job- and I don’t employ ineffective help. You’re damned smart, and your individual works are great, but one can only go so far alone. This is an opportunity I’m giving you, and the best one you have... You’re being laid off until I see fit, and you won’t be getting any support from me unless you give this a chance. Do we have an understanding?”

The expression on Obaz became a faint frown, which was impressive in his standards. There was a shorter pause this time before he was the one to cave;

“You leave me no choice then, sir. I will... Give it a chance.” There was a shorter pause for a change, before; "If I die, which is likely, it is your fault."

Petto folded his hands in front of him, trying to hide the hint of a smile that had formed on his face. In truth, he had intended to set Obaz toward life as a Huntsman well before this but had never judged the time right. 

“Alright then. I will be able to give you some advice; however, I'm limiting it to that. You will have to impress the staff there on your own, though I doubt that is a new concept to you... As some of the preparatory schools do for their students heading to Beacon, I think it would be best if you created your own weapon to wield- You have full access to tools and materials necessary for that right here. The examinations are in nine more days.”

/////

The next several days Obaz spent drawing up designs and rewriting those designs repeatedly, until finally he began casting molds. As the factory didn’t carry much in the way of building arms but the raw materials in an abundance, Obaz had to invent the methods of creating each individual piece from scratch but made fine progress nonetheless. As Mr. Petto watched from the catwalk his main concern was for physically training Obaz himself. The boy was fit well enough from the nature of his work, and it wasn’t as if he’d never fought before... the children at Beacon would have had formal training in the past, however. At best, Obaz knew how to fight off back alley thugs; at the start his lack of technique and quick resort to brutality may not paint a good picture. Still, he was convinced his son’s ingenuity would cut a path straight through any shortcomings.

After seven days and two trial products it seemed Obaz had completed what he called ’Ascalium Galbide – Mk. III’. During this time Obaz had approached Petto with need of advice only once, asking what type of equipment served most well on average against the majority of Grimm. 

It was a tri-form weapon; when holstered the Mk. III was set to a firearm state resembling a compact machine gun, with a sleek rectangular clip attached flatly to the side and muzzle silenced. Obaz practiced taking this off the back of his waist quite a bit as he had fastened it carefully. When switching modes of combat, the foregrip was removed and the frame of the gun revolved to create a wide hand guard over the handle and hilt of a blade that extended from the stock, meaning the sword was being held facing behind when utilized from here. 

The blade had large points just beyond the end of the hilt by a few inches and was serrated for most of the climb to the tip, resembling a flamberge and meeting the impressive length of one as well. When the two sections of the handle were separated and slid apart, the shaft of a spear was created between them as well as along the remaining gun barrel while the serrated blade returned to the frame in kind, the tip stopping at the points near the base at full length but could be set to anywhere along the way, spear shaft and blade edge maintaining an equilibrium at all times.

Ultimately, the weapon was very versatile with mid range and long range combat, but also quite complex. Obaz wordlessly acknowledged Petto at this point, revealing that he had known he was keeping tabs as well as showing that he was confident in this result. The remaining time was spent practicing with the machine gun form, as Obaz had gone hunting with Mr. Petto before but only seldom- not enough to really be considered experience. The accuracy Obaz showed in his thinking didn't appear in his physical aim; the shots he took went wide of every target he tried to hit, and his frustration showed.

When the time finally came for Obaz to be sent away to the Academy, the majority of his co-workers arrived to bid him farewell. Seeing him off, Petto turned away from the shuttle and smiled to himself. Of anyone Griswold could have referred to Beacon, Obaz would come across as subpar at best, nothing close to what most young prodigies were like upon arriving at such a school. The time would come when he’d see him again, hopefully better of the experience...

/////

Obaz' turn to meet with the headmasters of Beacon was in little more than five minutes. He waited in one of the many seats arranged in the hall by the heavy oak doors, feeling somewhat uncomfortable in the clothes and equipment he had purchased for the occasion of becoming a huntsman; nothing really flashy like some of the other students he’d come across but far from a grease-stained shirt and overalls. The thick, black, long-sleeved shirt was pinned to his torso by several straps along his midsection and over his shoulders, meeting more tightly near his right shoulder to reinforce that area for the stock of his weapon when firing. The dark brown pants he had taken had an assortment of handy pockets before being neatly tucked inside his all-purpose, steel-toed boots. The only things he had brought with him from the factory were his gloves, which were strong and had a firm grip, and his worker’s hat.

There were five more students waiting further down from him, all wearing the uniform of the school they were hailing from, discussing what they thought their chances were and recent events that may have impact on their mingling with the current student populace;

“- on top of that, I heard that this Ruby girl got let into the school, no questions asked, and she’s only fifteen. Right after that, she was assigned as the leader of her respective team. The fact that this genius kid just up and appeared is probably raising the bar for us, being late to the party and all.”

The heavy doors next to him swung open, the hopeful fellow that had gone in about fifteen minutes ago now leaving with his head hung low- that made six of the seventeen exchanged students coming here to apply now spurned. As he began to stand up, the girl that had taken the seat to his left continued to chat with those nearest her;

“- and there goes another one. Looks bleak, doesn’t it?... Good luck in there, guy.”

It took a moment for Obaz to realize the last of the statement was directed at him, whose time had come. He looked over his shoulder to see a smile of shallow reassurance framed by auburn locks, and nodded after a short pause. He was unused to the idle chatter and easy faces these people seemed to make their day out of, and he had no time to stop and reciprocate even if he wanted. After stepping through the arch of the doorframe they swung shut behind him, making a feeling of entrapment creep up over his back.

There was a semi-circular desk at the far end of the somewhat long room, lit with a nice looking chandelier casting a gold hue over the green wallpaper and a few paintings. Multiple staff members of Beacon were eyeing him from their seats edging the rounded side; a man wearing glasses sat with coffee in a mug in his hand, judging by the black and green wardrobe this was the headmaster Ozpin he’d heard about. Next to him was a woman adjusting glasses of her own, with blonde hair and wearing a white suit and black skirt, a tattered cape pinned between her and her chair. There was an older man sitting on the other side of Ozpin with a thick moustache and bergundy suit, with a disheveled, gaunt and also bespectacled man next over. There were a few empty seats, but these four were the ones deciding whether or not he would be accepted at the moment.

The blonde woman was skimming through a set of documents for a time until she raised her head from the papers to try to meet his gaze. Obaz’ hat had been removed and held behind him with his crossed hands, but his bangs still made the contact difficult. Unable to tell if she had succeeded in catching his eyes or given up trying, his attention became fully transfixed on her when she began to speak.

“Your name is Obaz Petto, correct?”

“Yes.”

“No records show Mr. Griswold Petto having children presently, despite his referral in your name.”

“I was taken off the streets by Mr. Petto. With no parents of my own, taking up Mr. Petto’s name was intended to respect him. My actual surname is of no consequence.”

“I believe I will be the judge of that, Mr. Petto.”

Obaz watched the woman like a hawk, unwavering from her stern disposition.

“No prior schooling is listed here for you. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you maintained a position of ‘Automotive and Hydraulics Engineer’ for the last two years?”

“One year, eleven months and twelve days. But yes.”

The woman paused, gleaned over the documents more closely, and then eyed him again with a bit more curiosity. Flipping through pages, she stopped shortly after she began and cited;

“April twentieth, this year. Do you remember what happened that day?”

Obaz, not knowing what event she was exactly looking for, began listing off numerous things. When he explained which model of vehicle he had worked on that day, which tools he had used and forgone to save time, the fact that he had skipped his lunch and prevented a chemical spill, he at last reached what she was asking for.

“- at 9:56 pm, the Lempwischer Car Lift suffered a breakdown while raising a Phorneous Copperago Sports-utility vehicle frame. There were two severe injuries, one being my own. Several of the worker’s statements suggested this was the fault of one Mark Jaccis...”

Obaz continued to speak, and even though he had explained what she had asked for the woman was at a bit of a loss as to how she should proceed. The last thing she had expected was the frightfully accurate memory of this boy. Soon she simply held up her hand to stop his rambling, hesitating only a moment longer.

“The point I was making is that this event was recent, yet you show no obvious signs of lingering difficulties.”

“... Miss Glynda Goodwitch, was it? Would you allow me to speak freely?”

There was a pause. The two on Ozpin’s left glanced at each other, not knowing what to make of this, but Ozpin himself broke his established silence and answered in Glynda’s place.

“If you would speak your mind, Obaz, go right ahead.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

There was a steady rise in the shock on each of the member’s expressions when Obaz described his recovery from the incident and showed them proof of the information regarding his injuries. After putting this part to rest as quickly as possible, he hammered a verbal nail into the entire process of examining him.

“I have had no proper education before I applied for the scholarship here, however I am more than capable of learning everything these students already know from the ground up, alongside what you plan to teach us in this curriculum. Any lack of skill I might have in combat will be corrected in a matter of time... as long as I will have an abundance of it here. I will not be particularly disappointed were you all to reject my attendance of Beacon, but I am ready, willing, and able to excel under your tutelage- and turning me away, I personally find, would be a waste of the time we’ve all spent here talking about it.”

Glynda seemed taken aback by Obaz’ haste to get this over with, but the men across the table seemed amused beyond measure by this turn of events. Ozpin stood up, taking a sip of his drink while setting his free hand in front of him.

“Obaz Petto, I hereby accept you into Beacon Academy. Your first appointment is at Beacon Cliffs tomorrow at 10:00 am. Sharp. Do not be late for your initiation.”

Obaz did not show any signs of happiness or excitement. He merely bowed to each of them, muttered a thank you to Ozpin, and took his leave while setting his hat back in place. The four of them had started speaking amongst themselves just as Obaz froze at the door, turning on his heel and waiting for them to finish before crossing the room again.

“Pardon the impertinence, but I would like to ask one more favor of you. If at all possible, refraining from telling the other students of my accident and results thereof would be appreciated. Being treated differently by them would likely affect my cadence in studies. Beyond that, I believe it to be in my hands to tell others of these matters.”

The four staff members stared at him, the student holding a straight face as he potentially asked them to keep a secret from his peers. Ozpin nodded to him, motioning for the others to do the same, before sending Obaz on his way out.


	2. Road Less Travelled

The night prior had been spent getting acquainted with Beacon’s grounds, locating the classes he would be attending and more importantly the library, memorizing these places for later as well as brushing up on certain information. After that, Obaz rested for about an hour before getting in some practice with Mk. III in the courtyard, followed closely by being forty-five minutes early to the appointed part of Beacon cliffs. He had taken a seat there for about ten minutes, inspecting his gear a second time before he heard footsteps approaching from the academy’s direction.

“Wait a minute... You were the eighth student accepted? From the looks of you when you left, I figured you were turned down.”

Obaz peered over his shoulder to look at the one speaking to him, but from her voice he could already tell it was the reddish-brown-haired girl from last night. Taking the time now to actually familiarize with her, she was quite pretty; her hair was kept tame by a black hairband, helping the wavy locks flank her bright green eyes and red lips- they were just short of hiding the beauty mark near her left cheekbone. Her frame was somewhat slender and her movements emphasized, as if she were to create mischief at any given moment. The faint smile on her face seemed omnipresent, but it only vaguely covered something less content behind it- like a translucent curtain over the window to a dark and lonely evening.

She had traded out her uniform for something more free-moving and battle appropriate; she had armored gloves and short boots, as well as a black waistcoat draping over a long olive skirt slit up the side. Dark stockings were pulled high, though showing a bit of her upper leg if the skirt moved in certain ways. Tucked just beneath the waistcoat and over the skirt was a darker green, sleeveless top, the fabric only a bit tight and the collar looped above her collarbone.

“You want to take a picture? It’ll last longer. Unless you’re prone to losing things.”

“Just committing your appearance to memory.”

The girl blushed a bit, holding her hands up; “Whoa, down boy!”

Obaz shook his head, picking up the compressed form of Mk. III and setting it back on his waist. “That is not what I meant. I would prefer to recognize you in the future- that is all.”

Standing from his haunches, Obaz turned his attention to the emerald forest, dew shining on the many treetops in the morning sun. The gleam would leave in a bit due to evaporation, so he reveled in the image for a minute before he decided not to ignore the girl- who was now looking at him much as he had been her moments ago.

“So, you’re just... observant. Which ought to be difficult with all that hair and shade in the way.” The girl seemed to be stating this to herself, like hearing it from her own mouth must make it true.

The brim of his hat was indeed casting a shadow further over his face most of the time, and rather than deny it or explain why he could see fine he settled on a shrug. No longer relying on hearing what came this way, He gave a short welcoming wave to Ozpin and Glynda who seemed surprised to be less than the first to make it to the cliffs.

“You both realize the initiation won’t be for another half an hour, don’t you?” Glynda asked.

Obaz instantly responded like a machine; “I claimed yesterday that I have time to spare. Arriving before my instructors is likely as far from being tardy as I can manage; do you not agree?”

Glynda conceded to the boy’s point, and then turned to the only other female there expecting a similar answer.

“I’m just an early bird, Ma’am. He was here well before me.”

The teacher and headmaster both gave the students some space whilst they prepared for the initiation. The girl next to Obaz seemed far more at ease when the distance from Ms. Goodwitch increased, and soon she was smirking again, striking up conversation with him.

“So... What’s your name? I’m Laera. Laera Daylight.” She leaned to one side, clasping her hands together behind her, playfully attempting to look at his eyes. She didn’t achieve much success.

“Obaz Petto. A pleasure.” Laera froze for a moment, and then burst into a fit of laughter at a pitch his ears weren’t exactly fond of. After she got a hold of herself, the topic resurfaced. 

“Obaz? Your name is Obaz? What kind of name is that?”

He responded casually; “The origin point of my name is not a fact I know of, but I can look into it.” 

Laera was already doubled over and grating his eardrums with her laughter again. Once past that they got a bit more smalltalk out of the way before other students began arriving for the initiation; within the next ten minutes the remaining six arrived, two men and four women. Laera mingled with two girls she already knew, pointing at him once or twice at the conversation’s start but he spared them no attention. After Ozpin and Glynda set themselves before the students they all lined up onto the plates arranged here, silence blanketing the atmosphere until Ozpin’s voice rose;

“Your initiation will be the same as our other students’. In the northern part of this forest is an old temple... That is to be your destination.” Glynda stepped forward, taking some of the monologue for herself; “The Emerald Forest is populated by various species of Grimm. We will be watching you, but caution is advised; we are committed to observing and grading your performances- not intervening, even in the event that your life is in danger. Any of you may well die during this process.”

The anxiety that swept through the candidates was almost audible, varying from person to person but halting on Obaz like a brick wall it could not surmount. Glynda paused, half to begin observing the students already, and half to build tension.

Ozpin cut in from behind Glynda to finish the briefing. “Once you have landed in the forest, the first person you make eye contact with will be your partner; for both this assignment, and the next four years you will study here at Beacon. Lastly, once you have reached the temple with your partner you will find various relics inside. Each pair must claim two matching ones and return to this spot with them, at which point the initiation will be at an end. Any questions?”

“What is the course of action we should take in the event of our partner’s death?”

Ozpin completely disregarded Obaz’ instantly cooked up question, acting as if it were just the wind; “Very good. You will all have to prepare your own landing strategy. Think fast.” 

"Is there an upward time limit to this test?"

The first student was catapulted off the cliff. Ozpin gave no indication of answering now either.

“Can we retrieve another set of relics if the one or both of the relics we claim break?”

The next three students were fired off, one screaming in surprise while the other two, one being a rare male, flew down over the greenery with echoing excitement. Ozpin was quiet as the grave.

“Why might you prompt the asking of questions you will not answer?”

The next three, including Laera who was dying of contained giggling, were all flung out into the unknown. Ozpin would not even look at Obaz since he began practice as a mute. When Obaz’ platform sprung up to launch him, he grabbed a hold of the edges lightning quick and stopped himself from leaving his starting point, now finally garnering the attentions of his Headmaster and Glynda as well. Stepping off and approaching Ozpin, he stopped right next to him, watching his eyes follow slowly.

“Thank you for your valuable insight, Mr. Ozpin.”

Obaz nonchalantly hopped from the cliff.

/////

Having been propelled outward from a high altitude, every other student taking part in this was quite a distance further than Obaz. Even so, he had made this more practical choice in descending the cliffside by hand for a number of reasons. To name one, he was not aware of his landing point from the launch pad; it could have dropped him into a horde of Beowolves for all he knew, and there would be little to do about that by the time he saw it coming. This and more contributed to giving him a great deal of control over his trek through this forest, and would make simple work of gaining any lost ground.

On top of that, Obaz was adept at overcoming obstacles quickly. Thick foliage, ravines, inclines and tripping hazards were evaded with relative ease; partly due to his analytic nature but mostly from his experience in poverty- living on the streets entailed frequent running across rooftops, climbing fences, and more complicated improvising to evade the night’s predators. Once the sun set, the most ill intended and aggressive folk prowled alleys and sidewalks alike.

Vaulting over some very thick roots and ducking past a few hanging vines, there were some faint growls and snarls coming from his left. They were not directed at him, as they were too far off from his location, and the sounds of a voice cursing their luck was mingled with the feral noise. Obaz detoured from his northern trail in order to get a look at what might be going on.

Peering out from the side of a tree closely bordered by others he took in a clearing. It would not have been a clearing if dozens of the trees here had still been upright, but most had been battered over in a single direction, possibly due to a much larger Grimm having trampled through some time beforehand. There were eleven Beowolves in total, and four more lie lifeless around the girl they had surrounded. 

Her blonde hair was cut short in a less than feminine fashion, though there was a white and blue hairpin present. Her brown eyes darted between targets as they circled her, trying to find the best opening to get out from the center of the beasts. The long coat she wore was a blue that had faded to nearly gray, reaching just past her knees and left unzipped, showing rows of heavy ammunition clips strapped over her midsection. These stopped below her chest which bore a button-up, dark violet blouse trimmed black. A pair of thick belts crossed her waist just above a set of navy pants, tucked snugly into some very tall black boots. There were protective plates strapped to her knees, a set of large layered spaulders on her shoulders and a clawed glove matted with spikes on the forearm worn on her right.

Her weapon itself was a gun almost as large as she, the kind that should have been mounted, sporting a longer barrel than it looked like it needed and cooling vents throughout the front casing. The stock was an extra straight grip until it met a thick wedge to be held at the shoulder and the clip, though it was just one of the many she had, was a big black box that definitely held more than sixty rounds at least. Due to the clearly massive weight of this thing along with the rest of her gear, it was no big surprise that she had been cornered so easily. 

Two of the beowolves made to lunge at her, one from behind and one to the side, at which point she yanked a lever near the trigger of her gun. It sprung a quarter-circular plate from the frame of the gun, acting as a strong shield in front of her chest as the gun barrel rotated, switching with a thinner cylinder without the vents below it which rocketed forward to a fine point four feet further. The high-caliber gun turned lance was swung in an arc around her, knocking both out of the air and impaling the first to the floor as she let the angle drop downward. Keeping the straight grip held in one hand she pivoted around her weapon to ram her glove’s nails into the other beowolf that was still down, finishing it in another rake of them after.

Obaz noted all of this in a short period of eyeing the situation, and ultimately judged her worth risking a rescue operation; having a partner made up of nothing but pure firepower suited him just fine. He stepped quietly as he could out from his scouting position, firing two short bursts with the Mk. III before raising a hand to his mouth and blowing. The whistle was not as loud as he could have made it, but was loud enough that it drew the attention of those restricted here, including the huntress-in-training.

“Rush those two and come this way. I will back you up.” He pumped out some more lead toward the closest beowolves to those he had already injured, keeping them from thickening their numbers between him and the girl. His aim unfortunately needed work, as he had only managed to wound the first two, missing the moving targets he was now firing upon.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before she began to sprint toward Obaz, knocking the wounded Grimm from her path like a human bulldozer followed by turning 180 degrees once close enough to him. He had caught one of the wolves pouncing at her during her retreat with a few shots to the chest and one to the head, leaving four strong hounding them and two weakened. The girl body-checked the closest oncoming enemy with the shield of her lance, knocking it back far enough to stab it through. She stepped to her left and faced sideways to dodge a claw aimed for her throat, which Obaz booted in the chops before aiming the Mk. III skyward, switching to the flamberge form and slashing it up the torso in the process. The tip of a lance passed between his stomach and elbows, catching inside the maw of the wolf that had come from their right to attempt biting his shoulder. Obaz switched his grip and swung his blade like a bat over the now ducking huntress, slicing through the outstretched arms of the only remaining beowolf he had shot and hurling it into the trunk of a nearby tree, spattering it red.

The remaining two Grimm approached warily, but finally decided it was best to turn back and run. If there had been any more of their pack, they would have howled to call for help; still, Obaz was concerned that the likelihood they were going for backup was high. He motioned for the girl to follow him back the way he had come to her aid. 

/////

The two pressed through the forest until they reached a tree much larger than most that were within the forest at all. Catching her breath, the girl Obaz had stuck his neck out for at last spoke to him;

“I would’ve been fine back there, but thanks all the same.”

Obaz skipped her comment with blatant disregard. “That is irrelevant. You seem to be lacking a partner.”

She gave him a puzzled look while she holstered her huge weapon, vertically over one shoulder. “... I am. I guess that makes us allies, doesn’t it?”

“So it would appear.” He held a hand out to her for a customary handshake. “My name is Obaz. And yours?”

She took his hand firmly and lifted it once. “Sophia. What kind of name is Obaz?”

“That is the common reaction... I really should look that up given the chance.” His line of sight was locked to the path they had hastily made during their escape, expecting the Beowolves to catch up with them. To her he was probably just facing that direction in general.

Sophia seemed to have gotten her composure back relatively fast, breathing at a normal rate already. She took a couple of steps toward him, her dynamic luggage rumbling together as she moved to make a close impression of a thunderstorm. She may have made it to the temple without him. By nightfall. Luckily for her, his method of catching up would also act as a good crutch for her lack of mobility and stealth;

“I would like you to stay close to me. Follow exactly in my footsteps, if at all possible.”

Sophia scoffed at him. “Thanks Lancelot, but I don’t need anyone playing hero for me.”

“You do not understand. You are weighed down greatly by that gear of yours, and you may as well be a landslide with the noise you make. How do you intend to reach the temple if you lure the entire Grimm population? Given you can break through them on strength alone, it would take long enough to impact your grade.” She visibly cringed a few times as his points dug in. 

After a moment she rolled her eyes, setting her hands on her hips. “Alright, I give. How does following you around make me quiet, exactly?”

“I do not need you to be silent. I need you to watch your step... I have run into no Grimm aside from the Beowolves surrounding you back there, and only because I was drawn there by hearing your voice. I can identify the signs left by the Grimm here well enough to stay out of their designated territories and hunting grounds; it entails a bit of sidetracking, however the lack of any opposition will save us precious time.” 

Obaz finished, but thinking for a moment he added; “For the record, I was not launched from the cliffs. I jumped directly down, so I could do this- and I caught up to you quickly enough, despite the head start.”

Sophia was giving him an estranged look now. “So... your landing strategy was... not being launched?”

“It seemed the simplest solution.” 

“Well. That’s thinking at the dead center of the box.” Sophia smirked, the first positive expression he’d witnessed thus far.

Obaz began leading the two of them on the road of safety only visible to his eyes. Sophia stumbled or clipped a branch every few minutes, and he had to slow his pace just a bit to accommodate the heavily burdened girl, but she complained not once and the lack of bloodthirsty resistance seemed to be most welcome. The comfortable hush they had been maintaining had to come to an end, though, as Obaz wasn’t through with directing Sophia as his partner.

“There is another matter I would like to put to rest before it becomes a problem.”

Sophia slid down the side of the decline Obaz had just met the even ground below, setting her eyes on him. “Shoot.”

His hand darted back for the Mk. III, intending to draw it and aim wherever she might see a foe, but soon realized it wasn’t a literal statement. Quickly he put his thoughts back together; “There is a gap in skill between you and I. In battle, I would say I count for less than half of what you are capable- at most, I can provide adequate support... An equal relationship would be ideal, but at the moment I do not match up.”

“... Is there going to be a moment where you act like a real boy?”

Obaz frowned. “I do not quite follow your meaning. Regardless, when we are locked in combat, wisest would be to let you take the lead. I will follow as best I can, but I would also have you listen to any instructions I may give. I will not order you unless the situation demands it. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

“Loud and clear, chief.” Sophia carried on behind him, shoving some low branches aside. She was itching to say something, he could tell, but it took her some more of that relaxing quiet to word it correctly; “You’re an awfully strange guy, but I think we’ll get along well over the next few years. And... Maybe you shouldn’t doubt yourself so much. I mean, you did a good job back there-”

Obaz stopped in his tracks, turning slightly but looking mostly over his shoulder at her. For once she caught a gleam of hazel from where his eyes must have been; “I don’t doubt myself. The only reason I haven’t surpassed you yet is because I had a very, very late start. I managed to attain this level of skill, however crude, in just over nine days.” 

“Nine days? You know this much about the Grimm and their living habits from studying for just past a week?” Sophia asked in disbelief.

Obaz shook his head no. “I said skill, not knowledge. I found the library last night just for this occasion; the likelihood that a Huntsman’s initiation will involve the Grimm in some way is nearly guaranteed.”

If rounding on her for a compliment like that weren’t enough, his speech pattern dropped a level; where normally his words sounded carefully chosen, he had gone with the quickest to say and even abbreviated what he normally kept separated into two words. So far, he had appeared severely modest, making her want to believe him when he claimed to have pulled off these most passable skills in around nine days –though it was still a tough pill to swallow. Time would tell if he was full of hot air or not, so she dropped the subject.

He looked as if he intended to say more, but frowned slightly again before giving her his back and resuming their march. Sophia made a mental note not to make assumptions when it came to him as she kept in step with the huntsman. Minutes flew by, and the temple’s stone columns were coming into sight... They were ready to claim their prize.


	3. Safe in Numbers

“There is something wrong.” Obaz reasoned. There didn’t seem to be a doubt in his mind.

Sophia looked over to Obaz as she came up next to him. “What makes you say that? The Temple isn’t far off now. And we haven’t run into any Grimm, thanks to you.” Obaz waved a hand in the air between them, emphasizing his point as he made it;

“That is exactly why. Thus far we’ve kept northward, lagging behind all of the other participants. Furthermore we have not been going in a straight line to evade hazardous zones- we should have run into one of the other duos on their way back by now. The odds that we missed all three sets, or even two, are slim. That is assuming they chose to double back for the cliffs straight south, which in corresponding is very probable.” They reached the edge of the forest surrounding the Temple, and Obaz motioned for Sophia to stop along with him so he could survey the area from their lingering tree cover.

There was around fifty yards of open plain between the edge of the woods and the temple itself. The temple was open at the top, but the walls were standing though short with some columns also intact. From their vantage point he could see two people, a girl and a boy, standing in the shadows against these walls and between the pillars, seemingly bickering. There may have been more, but he could only see the one gap from here. He watched for a second more before judging this all he could gather without staking the place out for longer than was convenient.

“We need to get over there quickly... Start sprinting from further back so you can gain speed. Once in, find shade.” Obaz coiled up like a spring, ready to jolt forward when Sophia met his position from her preparatory distance.

Sophia shook her head some as she took several steps backward. “You must sound so persuasive when you ask for a date, huh?” 

After trudging forward a couple times, she gained the momentum she needed to get across to the temple rather fast, though when Obaz joined in the race she fell behind. Once they made it up the steps and into the ruin she ground to a halt, making impact with the wall she went for the shade of with a jarring force and surprising all four of the students inside. Obaz made a more polished entrance, but not by much.

As it turned out there were two more women inside with the couple he had seen. They were kneeling in a gap between pillars nearest the broken entrance, looking just as surprised as the others present. He recognized the two girls as the ones Laera had been talking to before all of this began; upon closer inspection they were probably related as both had pin-straight, long hair of the same black color down to their waist, although one had ocean blue eyes, the other an emerald green. Each had a short top on that had a v-neck and a short skirt as well; this would have been revealing if they weren’t wearing some kind of body suit beneath these things. Their boots came up just beneath the skirt tied tightly up the outer sides, with gloves reaching up to their biceps much the same and some kind of sun and moon insignia printed on their stomach. Their outfits were complimentary to their eye color, just a darker hue, and the suits beneath were black.

The girl and boy in the shadows a space over from Sophia were quite a contrast of one another; the male was wearing casual clothing such as a red plaid shirt beneath some light armor, worn camouflage pants, and black-and-white running shoes. His eyes were a dull gray color that ate light without reflecting any back, and his maroon-colored hair was recovering from a buzz cut. The girl next to him, on the other hand, was the spitting image of wealth and connections; hair of a flawless golden hue that was cut perfectly, as if the person having done the job may have been subjected to torment were there a hair uneven. She had delicate features pulled tight with irritation, and wore black professional clothes trimmed gold, the kind you might see an admiral wearing with dozens of medals aside from a business skirt she wore. Nylons led down from there, until they hit heels he could not fathom her running in properly.

He silently blessed circumstances that led his partner to be the only girl that chose functionality over fashion.

“You scared me half to death!” The only male other than he exclaimed.

His high-class partner piped in with the exasperation Obaz had pinned her with; “Of course they did. Even the smallest disturbance makes you jump out of your skin.”

“I haven’t known you for very long, but please, get off my back.”

Sophia glanced at Obaz expectantly. “Want to tell me why we just ran a fifty meter dash and hid like mice?”

“Forty-six meters, actually. Moving on, from what I could tell these four - and now we - are hiding from the eyes of something airborne. A Nevermore, possibly- they should be indigenous to the region. The skies were clear on our way, so it is likely we were unseen. We made sure to get across the open field as quickly as we could, just in case.” He paused and looked to the twins, who nodded to his assumptions about the Grimm being correct.

‘That would also explain why the Beowolves hadn’t called for help, as that would have alerted the Nevermore to their location and lead it to their prey...’ Obaz thought to himself.

“They haven’t been gone for long.” Admiral Blonde cut in, right away breaking Obaz’ contemplation. “Laera and her partner took an opportunity to leave, grabbing their relics and tearing off south. The Nevermores gave chase; we’ve been stuck here since Steven still lacks a spine.” Red Plaid, whom it was safe to presume was Steven, gave her a derisive look.

“Either way, let’s grab the relics and scram while we have the chance. Not like we have to kill every Grimm in the woods.” Sophia attempted to end their part in the conversation and get going, picking up one of the remaining small disc-shaped objects from the many pedestals present before them.

Obaz grasped one of the relics as well, stuffing it into his pocket. “You were using plurals when addressing the Nevermores. How many are there?” It was the blue twin’s turn to speak up; 

“Teresa and I were almost eaten by two of them, and one had been all over Steven just before they were distracted by Laera. I don’t know if there are any more than that. Teresa?” The green twin put a finger to her chin, but eventually shook her head. “Three is all I count, too, Nicole.”

The Admiral ran a hand through her perfect hair, heaving another irritable sigh. “I still don’t see how this is possible. In the last initiation, the students were only attacked by one Nevermore, and they decapitated it. Where were these ones a week ago?”

“Sophia. Let’s press on.” Obaz stiffly stated. Sophia looked prepared to object as she glanced back at the four they found here;

“We can’t just leave them here. Three Nevermores? I’d want every able body in the Emerald Forest if that came down on me.” Obaz looked over to Steven, who was shivering and wringing his hands together as the Admiral tried to tug him toward the exit. The twins seemed to be on her side, but were trying to reason with the man rather than physically force it. Obaz spun back toward Sophia.

“Alright, I see your point. Do you mind if I take matters into my own hands?” She gave him a perplexed gaze, not knowing what he might mean and not used to the lack of demanding tone. 

Slowly but surely, she nodded; “Do your worst, I guess?”

The three girls and Steven only stopped arguing and pulling on their friend once they heard Sophia’s voice rise a pitch; “Hey! You better bring Matenlock down from there without a scratch! You hear me?!”

Obaz had grabbed Sophia’s enormous weapon and slung it onto his back as he climbed the crumbling, damaged pillar that rose above all the rest. Once he reached the top, He stood tall, sucked in a deep breath, bringing his hand to his lips and whistled as loud as he possibly could. Flocks of birds left disturbed from the treetops all across the forest. He repeated the call, the piercing squeal of his confined exhale echoing out to the three dark figures gliding around to the south.

“Is he out of his freaking mind?!” He heard Steven cry out, mortified. The figures far out from their location seemed to be turning toward them. Obaz took the Matenlock off his back and propped it up with both hands, firing the loud machine skyward- the booms of gunfire an urgent beckoning to every Grimm.

Obaz leaped from the pillar and landed below, the girls now holding Steven back from letting his hysterics vent on the other boy. Sophia took her weapon back from Obaz’ outstretched arms, grinning from ear to ear. “That center-of-the-box logic of yours is too much sometimes. What’s next in the plan?”

“Plan?! In what way is there a plan involved here?!” Steven was still flipping his lid, though Nicole and Teresa were having less difficulty holding him back as he began to simmer down. Even though they were keeping Steven in check they didn’t look very pleased themselves, expecting a justification.

“As Steven was disinclined to leave due to the temple being safe at the moment, the best way to resolve the issue was to motivate his passage out with the promise of danger. Now, you can stay here and face the coming horde, or follow Sophia and I. As she imagines, I do in fact have a plan.”

Obaz began descending the steps outside the Temple, Sophia close on his heels. He mentally counted the ten seconds he gave the other four, and sure enough on nine they begrudgingly followed suit. “You’re being pretty quiet about this plot of yours. Want to fill us in?”

“We all made a great commotion crossing this forest, therefore we’ve attracted most of the Grimm to the southern parts in our wake while we pressed north, having them converge behind us. If you pay attention to how the terrain is shaped here, that is the point- the teachers wanted us to brandish our blades and battle our way through, forward or back. The Nevermores have gone after Laera south, the Beowolves were tracking Sophia and I this way; and all the rest have been brought to attention moments ago- just about all of them should be arriving from due south. The Temple has clear signs of our presence, our scent, and is the most notable location as my whistle originated from it.” Obaz had been walking away from the Temple and westward, the simple yet effective strategy already in motion.

“We go around the main body of the pack en route, for a time headed southwest, and once we have dispatched the strays further out this way we will already be past the beasts, still hidden by trees for a time from the Nevermores. Keeping a good pace by that point should leave them in the dust... Going southwest rather than southeast is also a key point to the plan, as Ursas and Beowolves had a great sense of smell. The wind is coming from the east, so staying downwind from the vast majority as we pass them by should keep us from catching their attention too soon.”

As they began passing through trees again, two Ursas prowled around from the thick trunks up further. Steven showed his shock and fears in his little yelp and step back; “D-doesn’t look like it worked, does it?”

“This would have been ten in just a... couple dozen meters east.” He made it a rough estimate and stuck with the metric system for now, as Sophia gave the impression she preferred it. 

Speaking of whom; “I’ve done my part. By all means, you take this one.” Sophia smiled as she tightly gripped Matenlock, crouching to stabilize her aim. Just as she went to pull the trigger, Obaz casually flicked her safety on, at which point she scowled up at him.

“Close quarters, please. All of that racket would have you bring the passersby to our current location, rather than our last.”

“Fine...” Sophia pouted a bit sarcastically, but it didn’t last as she switched to her lance form and rushed the hulking foes. The Mk. III being silenced, Obaz had intended to open fire, but when the Admiral, Nicole and Teresa chose to dart past and for the Ursas he decided his aim wasn’t that trustworthy yet. Friendly fire was the last thing they needed. 

It took a moment of watching Admiral blonde to tell what she had taken from either side of her waist as she struck out for the Ursa’s legs alongside the defending Sophia; a pair of Kukri, hybrids of a sickle and short sword of a foreign origin that carried great slashing power. And she used them well, whirling around below the lumbering Ursa’s reach as she tore and sliced at the tendons in its legs, soon interlocking the blades at the base of the hilts in order to handle a firearm in her free hand; A much longer and bulkier gun than he had expected her to wield without the use of both her hands, but she held the long weapon steady as she took a shot- and air pressure forced a ten inch spear into the Ursa, punching through the thick hide like a nail pounded into soft wood. Sophia rolled under a claw swipe and jumped up onto the spike in the monster’s back, once leaping from this she rammed her lance into the Ursa’s neck, bringing it down.

The other Ursa had been stabbed through the midsection with Nicole’s spetum-looking weapon by the time Obaz gave the twins’ fight a closer look, as well as having taken dozens of slashes from Teresa’s blades, resembling katars. There were gun barrels integrated with either side of each katar’s hilt, jutting out horizontally from the blade with small clips for each next to the handles and individual triggers just next to the finger rings, allowing her to fire each handgun individually with her index or pinky fingers while still slashing at opponents. Nicole’s spetum had a shaft divided into four barrels, the crescent below the blade curved to make an acceptable stock and again two triggers sat near there, for firing two of four shotgun barrels each. 

They were a well balanced duo, and once Sophia and the Admiral joined in there were two sets of quick-moving razor maelstroms alongside two more spear-wielding powerhouses. The second Ursa almost warranted pity for how fast it fell. Obaz glanced over at Steven, who seemed just as discouraged to fight as he had before. Somehow.

“Funny how the boys just stand and gawk while we take care of business. It’s a weird change of pace.” Sophia drew the tip of her lance back into Matenlock’s frame, slinging it over her shoulder.

“I don’t get to do dirty work regardless of genders, so this is brand new to me.” The Admiral had already put her weaponry away, brushing some hair behind her ear that had gotten out of order. “Training pays off, but actually killing something is a different experience from chopping up dummies...”

Nicole and Teresa were already watching Obaz tread by silently, “Don’t tell me you’re scarred for life, Helena. We still need you to carry Steven.” Nicole teased, the Admiral having been labeled at last. A blush of embarrassment and anger swept over Steven as he fell into step with the others, making him red from the waist up.

Obaz could hear the dim sound of paws pounding the forest floor not too far from them, but they weren’t in danger of discovery judging by the distance yet. “Nicole and Helena, I want you up here by me, in case we meet up with any Beowolves. We’ll need a balance of speed and power to eliminate any we come across before they run for their pack; Nicole will be able to keep up with you better than Sophia, and back you with her strength. Sophia and Teresa, watch for attacks from behind us. And make sure Steven feels secure.” 

Sophia, Teresa and Nicole made to follow his orders, and Steven crossed his arms defensively, annoyed but not able to plead his case. Helena headed him off, looking standoffish as she tried to meet his eyes. She failed to manage that. 

“What makes you think you can order us around? Just because you had a good idea with these Grimm doesn’t make you some master strategist.” The group had stopped moving, and Obaz looked down at his hand, looked back at her, and then walked around her without so much as a counter.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Helena stormed after him, the other four in tow.

Obaz shirked her frustrated attempts to reel him into an argument with the straightest statement that was possible in the situation; “And I am not. I will not dispute with you a leadership I have not assumed; if you had any better tactic that we should be practicing, you would voice it. What you’re doing now is complaining about having to follow, in spite of having no sufficient means to lead. I suggest formations, I take safe routes, but never have I said you must abide them. So until you have a concrete reason to change our conduct, either follow or leave.”

Helena’s mouth was open slightly, and she was blinking repeatedly, trying to comprehend the disrespect that she was just verbally slapped with. Once she did, she made a sound that rivaled the hiss of a Deathstalker, though she said no more- she simply caught up and continued their travels next to Nicole.

“He’s a bit of a bitter drink, huh?” Teresa brought up with Sophia, being the rear guards. “He gets right to the point, at least. Sometimes I hate it when people try not to step on toes; the circle just goes on and on ‘round the bush...” Teresa nodded, getting what she meant. Idle conversations filled the time as they made for the cliffs.

/////

Obaz lifted the Mk.III as he spotted something ahead. “There. Eleven o’clock.” He took a handful of shots before the two girls he stationed at the front moved in, but missed by a large margin. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, practically nothing more than a twitch. It had been alarmed by the bullets whizzing by it, but didn’t react fast enough to evade a pair of kukri cleaving into its shoulders, holding it still for a spetum hurled into its chest like a javelin.

“Your aim is utter garbage...” Helena missed no opportunity to mock him, though his frown returned to neutrality when Nicole punched her blonde comrade in the shoulder for being rude, shortly after retrieving her pole arm. 

“I am well aware of the fact.” Obaz replied belatedly to the comment. From the gossip he had heard between Helena and Nicole, there had been a bridge and flight of stairs attached to a man-made garrison nearby, but it was mostly destroyed during the last initiation, the bridge rendered unusable. Their options remaining were to find the shortest area to scale or go to the closest part of the cliffs and deal with it. It would be simple for the girls, possibly less so for Sophia, but he wasn’t sure of what to think of Steven. They would be like Christmas lights on the dreary stone, backs to the Nevermores. Could he handle that?

As he set foot in a small cluster of flowers that led into a clearing, he stopped. Some stones and boulders were scattered around the area, probably debris from the garrison he had heard about considering the kind of destruction they implied had happened. What he saw out of place here was a black mass nestled between a few of these larger pieces, shifting slightly as it breathed. And the being itself was too big for his liking...

Obaz had been about to motion for the group to be quiet when Teresa stubbed her toe and nearly tripped over a pointed stone embedded amidst the flowers; “Ouch! Son of a bi-... Oh no.”

The resting Nevermore reared its head, locking eyes with the huntress.


	4. Fight for your Life

The six of them held perfectly still, as if they could become part of the scenery so long as they didn’t make any commotion. The Nevermore glared into Teresa’s eyes, and then finally opened its beak and shrieked; high and piercing, deafening and disturbing, shattering the quiet like any other pane of glass would have from the noise.

Obaz covered his ears for a moment, but was the first to recover from the startling cry by firing at the Nevermore as he approached it, shouting to the others behind him; 

“This Grimm will track us easily if we run now! We have to kill it before the others arrive!”

He wasn’t sure if all of his acquaintances had heard him after that shrill voice, but his actions should have been enough to understand upon seeing them. The Nevermore got to its feet, flicking one of the enormous wings it had out toward Obaz and launching dozens of sharp feathers like darts his way. He leaped to the side, avoiding the projectiles and sliding on his chest in the grass and flowers, continuing to fire on the Nevermore from where he lay before attempting to stand.

Only now did he hear the onslaught of Sophia’s Matenlock blasting bullets at the Nevermore, and unlike the Mk. III this was actually doing something to it- the stream of lead was causing enough discomfort for the Nevermore to put up one of its wings as a shield, blocking its sight in that direction for the time as Teresa, Nicole and Helena all dashed for the opponent. Steven was backed against a tree, eyes wide, frozen by terror. 

Helena ducked beneath the defending wing of the beast, jumped up, and dug both her blades into its chest, using them like climbing picks to slash and yank herself up the creature as it shook and stepped erratically to get her off. Teresa came soon after, taking swings at the Nevermore’s ankle that she enhanced with the recoil of her shots, arms wildly hacking at blurring speeds. The Nevermore’s weight buckled to that side as it lost strength, but it flapped several times attempting to take off, the wind pressure pushing Nicole away and the violent motion was halting Helena’s progress up at the Grimm’s shoulder blade, hanging on in a panic.

Obaz was slid back on his feet after he stood from the gale made by the wing beats, and knowing he could not advance to help the girls already attacking it he turned to face Steven. Clutching the boy’s shoulders, he shook him a bit to snap him out of his daze and get his attention; “Steven! We don’t have any time! We need to kill this Nevermore- and we need to do it fast.”

Obaz let his voice drop as the Nevermore managed to become airborne, the wing beats no longer forcing a whirlwind in the area and making Obaz yell over the roar of it. Steven’s eyes flickered between Obaz and the Nevermore repeatedly, and after the small pause Obaz added a final question.

“Those four are risking their lives right now. Even if you survive, can you go on after this, knowing you could have helped? That you may have made the difference between her life carrying on and ending here?”

He pointed up to Helena, dangling from the Nevermore’s body as it flew awkwardly above the trees. Sophia was reloading Matenlock while Nicole and Teresa both fired up at the creature, hitting the side Helena wasn’t on but causing no change. It was too high for Nicole’s close-ranged firearms and Teresa’s were too weak. At the rate it was going, the monster would either swoop down and knock the three on the ground into disarray or carry off Helena to a place they could not help her. Steven looked down at the ground, trying to steel himself.

“They will watch your back if you decide to put yourself at risk. That is a sort of code they seem to go by, assuming those three hadn’t known Sophia before this.”

“What about you?” Steven asked Obaz. “Would you trust me to keep you alive right now?” 

Obaz mouth straightened into a line. “... You are not afraid of the Grimm. You are afraid of an ally dying under your protection, or possibly by accident at your hands.” He said it as a statement despite still considering it an uncertainty, but Steven’s body language all but acknowledged it as the truth. Obaz turned to face the Grimm as it continued to ascend, setting a fresh clip into his weapon.

“To answer your question... no, I would not trust you with my life. However, choosing who trusts us as their comrade is not a luxury we have. This is where we better ourselves, Steven- it is all we can do for those who make the decision to rely on us, the decision to tie our hands to their fate.” He shot up toward the Nevermore, most shots striking it as it was a large target but they were making little difference, the strength behind the weak shots still lacking. And yet, he continued to fire.

Steven mulled over what Obaz said to him, but as he saw Helena nearly lose her grip his indecision ceased. He took a flat rectangular object off the back of his shoulders, and releasing the sides of it allowed the rest of the object to slide into place; it was a massive, rectangular plate, three wide barrels within the confines of thick blade edges, each of which were open on the right and loaded from the left. As he held the blade’s hilt above and braced the loading side with his free hand, Steven knelt to aim the weapon up toward the Grimm and pull the very long trigger between the handle and hand guard, a muffled whisper coming from the barrels as they let loose three bright flares.

At first it appeared this might be a hopeless attempt at saving Helena, but once the flares reached up to the Nevermore they stuck, two to the abdomen and one to the middle of the wing, and spread flames out from there. Its feathers alight, and the flames quickly growing in size as oxygen was fanned to them by the winds of flight the Nevermore shrieked in pain and began to falter, descending. Steven raced over to the three girls still bound to the earth, eyes burning with the will to fight.

“Obaz! Where will it land?” Obaz caught up to Steven as he posed the question, and looked up to the still struggling creature, the movements it made tough to take into account. He soon made a sweeping motion with both index fingers coming close and drifting apart, indicating a surprisingly restricted area of the clearing they were in.

Steven ran up close to where Obaz predicted it would fall, raising his giant blade over his shoulder with both hands and keeping his legs wide. He stood still, eyes on the Nevermore as its wing burned up and it eventually faltered in its flight. As he tensed up, Steven was enveloped in a soft orange light that increased in intensity two times, and as the Nevermore crashed into the ground the aura dispersed. Steven’s blade flashed with orange as it came down like a guillotine, mere seconds after the Nevermore landed, the blade rending deep through the beast’s flesh at the base of the wing with relative ease.

Helena had dislodged her kukris as the Nevermore dropped from the sky, and jumped from it once it had settled on the floor. Nicole rammed her spetum blade into the Nevermore’s throat as it writhed, and Teresa supported Helena as she gave in to the exhaustion of clinging to the enormous bird for dear life. 

“Nicole, Sophia! Pin the wings!” Obaz bellowed, sprinting to the Grimm now on its back. They did as instructed, using their spears like nails to fasten the creature’s wings to the ground. It thrashed and fought the restraints while Obaz jumped up onto its torso, stumbling once as he sifted through the feathers there, but once he found the area just above the heart he set the Mk. III into flamberge form, driving the tip of it into the Nevermore’s chest and backing away.

“Steven! Drive it in!” Not having to be told twice, Steven leaped up from the ground and stood at the side of the Mk. III stuck in its chest, raising his sword over his shoulder as he had before but sideways, the flat loading side facing up. He allowed his aura to build three times now, the wait almost unbearable as Sophia and Nicole held down the beast. When Stephen hammered the Mk. III into the Nevermore’s chest it released one last, ear-splitting scream that died down to a gurgle, lifeless. The flames bathing its body did not catch any of the fresh greenery nearby, rather it slowly sputtered and died much like its host in all the upturned dust and dirt.

Obaz hurriedly retrieved his blade from the Grimm’s chest, setting it to gun form so it would retract the blade from the flesh and heart by itself. Already seeing Beowolves starting to fill the edge of the clearing, he had a feeling he knew why they weren’t already flooding the place, so he slid down the blood-soaked feathers nearest the southern side of the clearing.

“The Grimm are close behind us. Come on, we need to move.” The group holstered their weapons, Teresa still assisting Helena from under her arm as they vacated the clearing. Steven was loading new flares into his sword before he put it away, and subsequently had to be yanked aside by Nicole as an enormous set of talons nearly scooped him up like an insect; the other Nevermores had arrived... All three of them.

Nicole and Steven caught up as the rest of the team made for the denser trees, and Obaz frowned slightly, now more certain of his theory. 

‘These Nevermores are smaller than they should be... They must be adolescents. The Nevermore that was slain in the last initiation was their parent, and when it did not return to its young they needed to learn to fly, likely taking them a few days. That is why they were not able to get here before we killed the first, why they weren’t present before our arrival, and why this one had been resting here- their stamina is insufficient for extended flights, so one lands to get its strength back while the other three hunt. Though most species of Grimm do not attack the others, these Nevermores are probably hunting after humans with reckless abandon; the Beowolves and Ursa do not want to get caught in between...’

Sophia dove forward, out of the way of another attack from a Nevermore, which uprooted a number of trees in a path past her as well. This one landed, however, and separated her from the group. Obaz turned to see what had happened when Steven shouted her name, and stopped where he stood. She was being cut off from the rest of them, one Nevermore smack between and two more soaring overhead. The other species of Grimm were not far behind... The best option open to them here was to leave her behind, and honestly he wanted to. However, he doubted he could convince the other four - especially Steven, whom he had just talked out of cowering - to abandon the girl. 

“Steven! Blind them!” Obaz raced toward the Nevermore, the shade of his brim intensifying as one of Steven’s flares shot up toward the standing Nevermore’s face. It flinched, rearing back from the bright light and dodging the object itself as it lost track of Sophia, who circled to the left of it. The bird was still too hazardous in this state to attempt getting around, though she was looking for any openings. She would have made for the trees untouched by the Nevermores if they weren’t lined with hungry Ursa now.

Obaz, on the other hand, was getting as close to the grounded avian as he could; after the flare had struck dirt and fizzled out he had looked to see the ones that were aloft; one of them had been drawn to the flare and were flying outside their usual pattern. Obaz took a chance, jumping up to latch on to the grounded Nevermore’s leg and whistled loud once firmly in place. Being blinded still, the flying beast zeroed in on the sound that had caught their attention prior, and it flew down to dig claws into its sibling. Twin shrieks, one of agony and one of attack, sounded out and silenced Obaz’ noise as the two Grimm toppled over one another from the force of the tackle.

Luckily, by this point Obaz had released the creature’s leg, directing Sophia toward a beaten path nearby. The third Nevermore was flying lower to the ground, watching over the wide open space its brothers had occupied and ready to shred any living thing trying to cross it. He grimaced a little.

“This is where we will have to part ways, then. Be careful.”

Speaking just loud enough for the other four to hear, Obaz took himself to the east, the closest set of trees to them that was intact. He hoped the four of them would have the sense to continue north, as he wanted the many pursuers to divide after them as well as himself and Sophia. The girl in question took a moment to realize where he was going and follow after. Focusing northeast on a sharp angle, there were already Beowolves catching up to the two.

“What should we do now, Obaz?”

Mk. III was already in his hands, and he pulled the bolt carrier into place as he moved. “We improvise.”

Sophia feigned shock; “You ran out of ideas? ‘Bout time.”

“I do not ‘run out of ideas’. My current plan is to formulate another plan in more favorable conditions; such as a pack of Beowolves rather than a trio of Nevermores.”

“And how long will that take you?”

Obaz took a few shots to his side, halting the progression of the closest Beowolf before it went to pounce. “One minute. At most.”

One of the wolves came close enough to swing a claw out toward Sophia, at which point she slid to a stop and drew Matenlock, driving the lance’s tip into its chest. The speed it was going at was enough to impale it to the gun frame. 

“We could just kill them all.”

“... That may be a reasonable course of action. For now.”

Sophia swung her lance to chuck the corpse on it into another wolf approaching, followed closely by another powerful jab to one on her right side, damaging its leg. 

“Can’t you just say ‘Sure’? I mean, come on.”

Obaz stepped back quickly, a set of jaws practically snapping up his face, and rammed Mk. III’s blade into its stomach. He switched to spear form, sliding the body back across the blade as the frame retracted it and flinging it off like a catapult- almost as strong as Sophia’s brute force. Deflecting a claw coming up from below with the spear’s shaft, he lodged the spearhead into the newest foe’s skull, wrenching it free after.

“I would prefer not to.”

One of the canines had crept around the others that were falling, and when opportunity struck it lashed out from behind Obaz, getting a clean pair of gashes across his back with crossed arms. Grunting, he fell forward but turned the stumble into an evasive maneuver, taking no further injury and forcing his attacker back as it tried to push him into a corner. Sophia was nicked across the collarbone as her attention was pulled to her wounded partner.

“You gonna hold up?”

Obaz winced, but kept his guard up. “Hoist what? If you mean my weapon, then yes. My back was torn, not my arms.”

Sophia took her opponent to the ground with a thrust through the shoulder which she tilted down, and stomped on its throat to choke it. While she did this, she risked turning her head toward Obaz just so he could see how impressed she was with his joke. Her blank face of disapproval became an actual expression of disbelief when it was apparent he was serious.

Stepping to the side, he avoided the lunge of another Beowolf to stab it through the back and pin it to the ground. Grasping the muzzle and back of the head, he gave a hard jerk that snapped the beast’s neck. More were coming, but significantly fewer were close at hand.

“To the cliffs. These ones may die another time.” Obaz reverted the Mk. III to gun form and beat feet to the south, Sophia close behind.

/////

“So those things were the kids?!” Sophia asked rhetorically. When they had gotten a safer distance ahead of the Grimm, their pace had slowed, though the two were still keeping a quick one. Sophia had brought up the Nevermores as a topic, to which Obaz clued her in on what he hypothesized.

“I could not be sure until we had seen the others; I thought it possible the first one we met with was merely stunted in growth. This would be the most fitting scenario to support the facts.” They should have been nearing the cliffs soon, judging by the time elapsed moving faster than usual. Sophia sighed, showing little sign of fatigue.

“You’re still bleeding, you know. Why didn’t you use your aura?” Obaz glanced over as she spoke, noting that the scratch below her neck had already vanished.

“I was using it... I still am.” She looked more closely at the tears in her teammate’s back, and though they weren’t healing at an accelerated rate, they were scabbing over faster than normal. It seemed Obaz’ aura was simply weak.

Sophia scoffed, not knowing whether to be impressed he made it this far or distraught that she was stuck with him. “You know, if not for that head on your shoulders, you’d be less than qualified to be here.”

She watched him make that almost invisible frown, wondering if there was some way to get him to do the opposite.


	5. To New Heights

Shoving some bushes aside to pass through, the pair came up to an open space just before the sheer cliff side. They had made it at last; all that was left was to climb the rock face. Obaz intended to begin the ascent, but stopped when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Against the cliffs to their side and up a ways, two people were sitting on a graciously wide ledge. One seemed to be injured, being tended by the other.

“That must be Laera and her partner... Ugh, that has to be Regis. Should we help ‘em out?” Sophia wasn’t waiting for an answer, but Obaz clapped a hand on her shoulder to keep her put.

“There is no point. Having an injured ally and their partner will hinder us more than help.” Obaz started to climb, ignoring the wave he was getting from the ones on the cliff having noticed them.

Sophia looked up at her comrade, then back at the couple most likely signaling for help. 

“You’re kidding, right? They look like they’re in a pretty bad way.”

“I mean what I say. I stand to gain nothing from helping the two of them.”

Sophia grabbed at her partner’s ankle, catching his pant leg and yanking. He looked down at her, paused briefly, and let go of the cliff side. “Those two are perfect targets for the Nevermores once those things get themselves straightened out. It’s a Huntsman’s duty to protect people from the Grimm, isn’t it? What are you going to Beacon for if you’re just going to ignore that?”

He rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand, soothing the ache there as he thought about what she said. It was a good question. Obaz had come to Beacon in order to learn, of course, but to what end? He had been considering what being a Huntsman meant to him but ultimately he was doing this for Mr. Petto, wasn’t he? He hadn’t been given a choice. Sophia seemed steadfast in her reasoning, and even if he chose to ignore them still she would likely go to their aid. That was her idea of the job description, after all.

“... I have no answer to that quite yet.”

With that, he turned his back on her and resumed his climb. Sophia’s opinion of Obaz fluctuated now, the selfishness he was portraying making her like him far less than before. The issue of her partner would have to wait, though, as she took off at the base of the cliffs, meaning to scale the stone from below where the other two were. If Obaz wanted to ignore a plea for assistance, that was his choice- and like he said to Helena before, she didn’t have to follow his advice.

/////

Steven continued to push through the opposition they faced, as the Grimm who had been hunting them closely were pouring out now that the Nevermores were elsewhere. Alphas of both Beowolf and Ursa breeds, with their packs in tow, were appearing left and right, soon managing to surround the four by sheer numbers alone. The Hunters each went back-to-back in a diamond shape, facing all of their adversaries at once. “I guess running away so hard had its disadvantages...”

“Better than big, flying freaks. Let’s just chop them up and go home already.” Teresa said, switching her katars so that the gun barrels faced forward, parallel to the blades rather than staying horizontal to them. She was able to make much more precise shots this way, and she could fire to get the tip out of a stabbed surface this way as well. She intended to move out from their formation, but Helena caught her wrist.

“Patience. They’re coming to us, anyways...” Three Beowolves and four Ursa lunged from all sides, and two of the bearlike Grimm were demolished by Steven’s blade in seconds; a heavy rend through the torso slicing it cleanly in half, followed by a vertical slam that came down on the other one’s head so hard Steven lifted himself off the ground a bit. The Beowolves met with small arms and shotgun fire, two falling short but the third getting close enough to bite at Teresa.

Nicole’s spetum drove right through its neck, and she hurled it up into the air off her weapon to flip it around over her head and give two of her four barrels to an Alpha Ursa. It ate the flak with surprisingly little blowback, rushing through to try and come down on her with both claws, when a small harpoon nailed the beast right in the eye. It slumped and fell, Steven swearing under his breath when he had to deflect the claws of an Alpha Beowolf now. “This is getting too crowded!”

Helena swung her now connected kukris in a wide arc, getting the numerous wolves to back away and slicing the leg off of one. It howled and fell, asking for a harpoon to the head, and she didn’t bother to glance at the plaid-wearing ally while she reloaded the weapon; the small harpoons were kept in small Velcro loops on her biceps and thighs, so sliding the barrel onto the spears and tugging them free of the straps allowed her to reload with one hand. “They’re thinnest on Nicole’s side! Can we break through there?”

“Likely, but it’ll take more than one of us.” Another set of shotgun blasts, and Nicole dropped two of the shotgun barrels to trap an Ursa’s paw between the barrels and edge of her spetum, slicing the limb off and getting the chance to load two fresh shells at the same time.

“Maybe not –quick, cover me.” Steven backed into their diamond shape, watching the girls now form a triangle around him. He turned towards where Nicole had been fighting, getting his greatsword into a horizontal position behind him and letting his aura grow in intensity. “Move when I say, Nicole! You don’t want to be caught in this!”

As he met the third flare of his aura, he shouted for Nicole to get out of the way, and she actually dove when she first intended to step aside; Steven tore off from his spot with such a powerful sideways swing that he kicked up a gust, spinning with the blade and making a slightly jagged path of gore through the dozen or so Grimm that way. There had been three rows, as opposed to the four and five on their other sides, and he spun like a bladed top to eviscerate this quarter of the horde. There wasn’t time to gawk as the three girls trampled blood and parts in this new escape route, as well as the numerous toppled trees and one cleanly shorn boulder past there. Once they reached the cliffs in about one minute, they found Steven just now dislodging his sword from the side of it, putting it away to start the climb.

The Ursa weren’t the best climbers, and the Beowolves had it hard keeping pace with the team, so it didn’t take long for the four of them to crest the side and celebrate a job well done.

/////

Practically hurling herself up over the top of the ledge, the first person she saw was Regis, the third and final male of their crop. He was clad finely in mostly dress clothes, tailored to fit more loosely to accommodate battle, his wardrobe predominantly blue and his eyes the same. There were glimpses of white beneath these things, such as at his cuffs and collar. He carried no weapon at his back or side; serrated blades attached to a set of greaves and diamond-shaped spurs not needing to be set aside. He had brown hair that was tied in the back and parted at the center, his perfect teeth forming a dazzlingly white smile when he saw her.

“Sophia! What a sight for sore eyes you are! Lovely girl that you are, I knew you would come to our aid-”

Sophia punched the prissy boy square in the jaw, making him fall backward. “Shut your trap, Regis. You’re the last person I wanted to see here, you know.”

Laera smirked at Sophia, approving of her actions. There was an abnormally large feather lying next to her, the quill stained red with her blood. Her upper leg had been pierced, though not all the way through. Sophia had to admit that this girl was gorgeous, at which point she sighed, pitying her misfortune regarding her partner.

“Sorry this idiot had to be your matchup. I’m sure he’s driven you up a wall by now.”

Laera shook her head, auburn locks bouncing some. “He’s not so bad. Just a little too flirtatious- it was cute for a few minutes, but it’s just annoying now. Actually, funny you should say that last bit- I fell off the wall thanks to him, if we’re talking literally.”

“Oh come now, that was an accident. Anyone would slip if we were shot at like that- it... just so happened you were the only one who was actually hit.” Regis pressed his chin, hoping to ease the pain as Sophia hadn’t been gentle. His vision was drawn to the only other person on the cliffs at present, ascending higher at an exceptional speed.

“You were just talking to that guy before you started climbing, right? Where is he going?”

Sophia crossed her arms, disappointment written over her. “Obaz doesn’t see a point in helping you two out. He’s getting this thing over with, I guess.”

Laera watched him go higher, a flash of anger boiling up alongside a wave of pain. “He seemed like the type of guy who might do that, but I didn’t want to label him off the hop... It’s a shame.”

Her aura was doing well to lessen the severity of the wound, but it was a direct hit, deep enough that she should get medical attention after they were through with the initiation. It also meant that scaling Beacon Cliffs would be detrimentally harder. Wrapping her leg in bandages that she had had in her coat pocket, Sophia sent Regis to the edge as a scout since he seemed a little too absorbed in where her hands were. Once that was finished, she crouched in front of Laera, offering her a ride. “If you could avoid wrapping your legs around me, I’d appreciate it, but I won’t ask that if you need the extra hold.”

“Oh baby...” The girls shot Regis a death glance, silencing the jerk but also spotting the Nevermore hurtling toward their location at an alarming rate.

“Dammit, Regis- I told you to keep your eyes open!” Sophia set Laera back down, standing in front of her with Matenlock’s shield sprung out. Regis also stood ready to fight as the menace flew down on an angle for them. At the same time the beast shrieked, a loud cracking sound occurred from above them, which grew louder in a matter of moments. The Nevermore had been feet from the ledge they stood on before a thick slab of stone from the cliff side fell like a comet down onto its back. A deadly crunch of flesh and bone resounded as the rock smashed down with the force of gravity; cracking the mask over the Grimm’s face as well as making both its wings fold backwards.

The monster hadn’t known what hit it... and watching it strike the ground was satisfying, as a splatter of blood streaked out in all directions beneath their attacker. Sophia had been about to bless their luck when Obaz dangled down from a handhold above their ledge, dropping from it. Looming over the boundary of their ledge, he took in the sight of the dead bird of prey.

“... That went splendidly.” He mused.

Laera clapped giddily while Regis continued to look down at the beast alongside him, and Sophia had no second thoughts about forcing Obaz to give her his full attention, physically turning him around so they were eye to eye. Well, as much as one could be with him. “And just what brought on this change of heart, hmm?”

He stiffly grasped the girl’s wrists, removing her hold of his biceps she had turned him with. “The circumstances were an opportunity I chose not to waste. It was you who said they were perfect targets for the Nevermore, after all. Moreover, I said I would not help the two of them- you involved yourself, which swayed my assessment.”

“We’re right here, you know.” Laera glowered at Obaz, like he would burst into flames if she stared long enough.

“How did you dislodge that massive thing anyways? I don’t even know if Sophia could have gotten that to break away.”

Regis seemed to be of at least mediocre sense. Obaz replied simply; “You would be surprised what the right type of leverage can accomplish.”

Sophia glanced at Obaz doubtfully, wondering if that were all there was to it but seeing no reason for him to lie. Setting Obaz’ valiant return aside, she lifted Laera onto her back again, and Obaz slipped Matenlock off her before she could protest- instead placing it on Regis.

“Why don’t you carry it?” Regis irritably inquired.

“You are burdened the least out of us all, by appearance at any rate. Am I wrong?” 

Regis grumbled to himself as he started the climb. There was, however, a small problem; despite now being the least encumbered, Obaz was likely to be well behind the three he was assisting by the time they reached the top of the cliffs- the reason being that again, his capability regarding his aura was dirt low compared to theirs; Regis was leaping up extraordinary heights, even carrying the Matenlock, using his aura to propel himself and landing flawlessly on any outcropping able to support him. Even Sophia was able to do this, though she was jumping much shorter distances than the guy she was still relying on footholds and aura. Obaz unfortunately hadn’t the first clue how to utilize his aura physically beyond poorly healing himself, and though his skill in freely scaling this wall was excellent he was still using normal means to do so.

A screech of fury soared over the silent ascent, and he was less than surprised to see that both the remaining Nevermores had come to the location they last heard their dying brethren. What shocked him even less was that he seemed to be their primary target; even if they had no way of knowing he was at fault for their kin’s death, he was the straggler of the group at present, and any animal that fell behind the herd was hunted on principle. It could be said that just by being slower than Sophia and Regis he was helping them by absorbing the Nevermores’ aggression, keeping them from targeting Sophia and her injured cargo.

The first of the two to get remotely close flung dozens of devilish feathers at the cliff side, many piercing the stone hard enough to stick but others bouncing off. Regis evaded these by getting above the afflicted area, and Sophia bounded just out of harm’s way. Obaz was smack in the middle of where these many spikes were headed, of course, only barely being able to escape the barrage by slipping into a thin crack to his upper left. One of the feathers nearly punched a hole through his skull, striking not even a second after he had moved from his position on the flat surface.

The Nevermore swooped down after him in a rage, grasping the exterior of the cliff on either side of the crevasse Obaz had entered. Its cruel beak crashed repeatedly into the opening, though too thin for it to reach its prey, the opening was getting wider as the rock crumbled away from the numerous attacks. Obaz pressed as far back as he could get, rapidly attempting to invent another miraculous ploy.

“Regis! Pass Matenlock!” Sophia held out her hand to the boy, a few meters away on another ledge. He glared down at the beast trapping Obaz like a rat.

“I’ll lend him a hand. You keep an eye on Laera.” Regis stepped off and fell toward the monster, Sophia cursing under her breath. Much like the meteor of a rock Obaz had dislodged earlier, Regis now dropped toward the Nevermore with the Matenlock ready to pierce through it, enhancing the damage potential of the strike.

Obaz had propped himself between the close-by walls of the crevasse higher up than before, pressing his hands and feet to either side in order to keep a bit further out of the ravenous Grimm’s reach. It was starting to get closer when the Nevermore screamed in pain, Regis having landed on its back and sunk Matenlock deep into its hide. With this it reared back from the shock, a moment Obaz lacked any hesitation to use to his advantage, releasing the walls and slipping out of the corner he’d been backed into. The talons gripping the face of the cliff seemed perfect targets, so he turned to the closest with his sword drawn and hacked at it like a woodcutting addict that had been going cold turkey over the last few weeks.

If that was no indication, the creature’s toes did not last long.

Two of the clawed digits were severed in seconds with spurts of blood sticking to Obaz’ dominant left side, and with them the Nevermore lost the symmetrical strength to hang on, releasing the wall. It flapped awkwardly to keep aloft, though losing altitude and blood it was still a threat. Regis had gotten off the ride to land by Obaz, expecting gratitude. What he got was the cold shoulder as Obaz frantically climbed like he had been before toward Sophia and Laera. The second Nevermore was already perched at the edge of their spot, shrieking- Obaz couldn’t tell if they were alright from where he was, climbing faster in haste.

Regis still beat Obaz to the location, which made him scowl with frustration before yanking himself up alongside the individual. Laera was actually the one holding the beast at bay surprisingly enough; a very long sword was in her hands, curved at the end and rammed into the ground before her. A square contraption attached to the back of the single-edged blade was lined up with a green glowing stone set in the side of the sword, reacting with it and forming a glyph deflecting the bombardment of razor-sharp feathers being hurled at them both. Maintaining the glyph seemed to be tiring her out, and Sophia held a handgun as a backup weapon, though not wanting to break Laera’s concentration for a few weak shots she was holding her urges in check.

The creature’s gaze was drawn to the newcomers, halting its fruitless attacks to handle the threat to its side now. It was just a bit bigger than the others- possibly the eldest of the four... It went to drive its beak into Regis first, the boy ducking and evading the attack by rolling forward. Obaz got in a glancing blow to the Nevermore’s face while Regis got close enough to throw Matenlock to its rightful owner, the blonde grinning manically as she put her sidearm back at her calf and set her sights on the target before them.

Regis did something with his greaves just before he ran toward the Nevermore first; the blades on his shins now jittering up and down dangerously like band saws and spurs whirling like buzz saws. Obaz took just a second to admire weapons that were akin to tools he was well acquainted with, and then followed in Regis’ footsteps after the foe. Sophia mounted a storm of bullets while charging ahead and Laera -though immobile- was prepared to set up another glyph if the need arose.

Another volley of arrow-like feathers flew out across the short distance between them, Regis bobbing and weaving amid the projectiles as Sophia plowed through them with the help of her mounted shield. Obaz shifted his weight to jump to the side, escaping the stream before it hit and going around; “Regis, take the left leg! Sophia, drive through the center!” 

A lance was the first thing to make contact with the great bird, thrust into the beast’s abdomen. Regis’ saw blades came careening in for the Nevermore’s leg with blinding speed, the sweeping kick driving a vibrating band of pain relentlessly into the thin flesh and bone, and Obaz had to step to the side to avoid a deadly bill and slam his own flamberge into the other leg. The claws digging into the edge gave way a bit, and Sophia pressed the creature until it began to lean backward. It flapped its wings attempting to drive away the hunters too close for comfort, succeeding in repelling the two at its legs but Sophia was in too deep.

Even so, she was starting to give out under the wind pressure, and going back any further than she was would leave her open for the Grimm’s consumption. Obaz slid back in the strong wind, mind racing through ways to approach and help her finish the job, and finally he backtracked just a ways more to grasp Laera’s sword. “I’m borrowing this.”

Using the slightly hooked end of her blade and the toothy edge of his own, Obaz used the lengthy weapons to slice into the ground ahead of him and drag himself forward through the gale, and once he was close enough he rushed into Sophia with his shoulder, ramming her into the Nevermore and impaling it further on Matenlock. He planted a foot on Sophia’s shield, and leapt off of it to grip the Nevermore’s torso with the swords rather than the ground, mimicking what Helena had done to their first encounter.

He reached the upper torso quickly, leaning right to dodge the snap of a beak several times until he found the chance to drive Laera’s blade into the creature’s chest. He shoved a bit more until it felt secure in order to set his foot on the hilt and his other against the Nevermore’s shoulder, taking the Mk. III in both hands and slashing diagonally into the carotid artery –or at least where it should have been. Obaz tore at the space at the monster’s neck four more times, and only once a wedge was missing from its neck did it fall, releasing the edge of the cliff. Sophia reached out to him trying to catch him before he went with it, but Laera’s blade gave him some trouble before dislodging, at which point he and his enemy were below the ledge- Obaz hopped from the corpse and dug the curved tip of Laera’s blade into the rock adjacent to him, catching himself just below his comrades.

There was no time to celebrate another job well done yet as the last remaining Nevermore had recovered from the wounds it had suffered from Obaz and Regis, and had come around to make another attempt on their lives. Obaz found it difficult to get back up; he tried using the blades as climbing picks like he had earlier, but the sedimentary rock changed to a much denser substance just above where he had clung to. And even with the Mk. III holstered, Laera would need her sword to help them with her glyphs most likely, and that was an asset he wasn’t prepared to forgo. At a lack of options, he held it a ways behind him and below, flinging the weapon up well over the ledge he had fallen from. 

“Watch out above you!” He called to his allies. From the sounds of astonishment and swearing, they had heard him just in time.

Pulling himself up along the cliff as fast as possible, the last Nevermore was practically close enough for him to pet it by the time he got above the edge. The last thing he expected, however, came to pass- the three of his comrades already had a course of action planned out. Laera formed a glyph like the shield she built earlier; this one was placed in the flight path of the beast, colliding on an angle that drove it toward their ledge. Regis was already up in the air, performing a wheeling kick from above that smacked the bird square in the side of the face, plunging it down on an angle toward Sophia- and she was making a powerful upward thrust with her lance that soared undaunted through the soft flesh under the creature’s beak, shattering the mask on the other side as it pierced right through the Nevermore’s head.

Sophia fell backwards with the force of the creature’s still-driven body, rolling over to get out from under it lest she be crushed. Turning the head to the side, she withdrew Matenlock and slipped it over her shoulder, doing a little fist pump in triumph. “That went splendidly.” 

Obaz smirked ever so slightly, just as difficult to read as his frowns were, but she caught it and beamed at him, making him turn away. The change in view let him catch Steven, Helena, and the twins waving excitedly from above them and to the east.

“That should be all of the Nevermores. Even so, it would be best if we did not assume.” Obaz latched on to the cliff side, within minutes reaching the top following after the other three. Cheaters that they were.

/////

The event held for the official acceptance of the eight exchange students was much smaller than that of the ones held for the actual freshmen from what Obaz was hearing, but it didn’t bother him much; what did, on the other hand, was the Headmaster’s announcement involving their teams;

“Steven Gemell, Teresa Kalypse, Nicole Kalypse, and Helena Teroi, having retrieved the red checkers, will be working together as Team Strength.”

Their mugshots, along with their first initials, lined up to form the abbreviation ‘STNH’.

“This team will be led by Steven Gemell.” Helena looked ready to bite the Headmaster’s head clean off, and Steven seemed slightly insecure about the decision.

“Regis Agemont, Sophia Towers, Obaz Petto, and Laera Daylight, having taken the black checkers, will be bonded as Team Resolve. This Team will be led by Regis Agemont.” 

Sophia seemed resolute in mirroring the other blonde by expression; her relationship with Regis looked to be less than friendly. The Headmaster drabbled on with a few more pleasantries, all of which Obaz basically ignored. He wasn’t all that content with how the teams turned out; Sophia was fine, but Regis struck him as the type of person who used and abused people, privileges and anything else he could get his hands on to get his way. Laera, though his opinion of her could likely change over time, was that of a girl who focused too much on appearances and social nonsense.

On top of everything, Obaz considered Ozpin himself to be the least likeable one here. The Relics weren’t even relics; they had been placed there after the first initiation, and newer than the temple itself. Further, compared to the chess pieces the prior recruits discovered, the color-coded checkers seemed like an underwhelming ripoff.

Even this didn’t really hold any importance right now, though. Obaz’ time at Beacon had finally begun, and he would make the best of it.


	6. Meanwhile...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly where this takes place is questionable, at least. Being the first one to have canon implications, I imagine it takes place sometime before Forever Fall forest's visit or so...

The Amber Fields were just as they sounded; a spacious savannah, with seldom trees and a few stones scattered about among a golden sea of grass, shifting in waves along with the wind. It was here that Team RWBY was taking care of their very first mission without close supervision from a teacher, nor the company of another team- both of these would come during their assignment in the Forest of Forever Fall, just a week or two from now. The objective the four girls were handling now was as simple and safe as it could get; they were to locate the nest of a certain species of wildlife here, mark the location on the map in their scrolls, and promptly return to Beacon with the info. The Fields were uninhabited by any manner of Grimm, so the trip was really meant to get them used to the protocols and guidelines of legitimate missions.

Ruby Rose, the leader of RWBY, was caught between disappointment with the lack of excitement and combat along with the pure beauty of the field itself, so it was to say she was neutral. She pat Crescent Rose as if to reassure it that she would use it again in due time. Her sister Yang was ahead of her, looking a little bored with her hands locked behind her head, her long, enviable gold locks swaying in time with the grass at their feet. Their monochrome remainder, Weiss and Blake, were heading the group right now- mostly on a whim as they had already taken care of business and were on their way back to the academy.

“Hey, sis. You think Jaune and them had to do this snoozefest too?” Yang had been somewhat grating with the rest of the team this whole time, being the most restless of the four.

Weiss let out an exasperated sigh, looking over her shoulder to address their companion despite not being posed the question; “Oh, give it a rest. This place is so beautiful, Yang- could you try to appreciate it a little? I mean-”

In the blink of an eye, Weiss Schnee was taken.

No warning came before two figures prowled over the top of a short hill the team were passing by, having been lying in ambush on the other side for them. Sprinting into the midst of the quartet blindingly fast, Weiss herself was partway through her sentence when she was stopped in her tracks by a well-placed blow from the second of two intruders with a bat to the back of her head. As she lost consciousness, the first of them circled her and caught her on their shoulder. They bolted just as Blake realized what was happening, tearing off toward a grove to the west. The abductor’s accomplice was slower than his companion, but he stopped between the remaining members of RWBY and the grove the abductor was making for.

Ruby brought out Crescent Rose, in a flurry of petals she disappeared in pursuit of the kidnapper. Blake made to follow after her, but several wires caught hold of her arm and leg, yanking her off her feet and back toward the second perpetrator once she tried to get by him. Closer inspection revealed this guy as an almost senselessly suspicious character; a black mask covered his mouth and nose, clasped at the bridge of the nose and jaw line. He was wearing tinted goggles as well as a bandana; not a single feature on his face nor a strand of hair was visible. He was wearing a dark gray trench coat of sorts hanging down to his knees, the belt hanging limply from the waist and allowing it to drape loosely to reveal orange pants stuffed into professional laced boots, and a similarly orange shirt with a V-collar.

On his left hand, the sleeve of his coat was tucked into a glove that covered up to just before his elbow, where the wires that had grasped her earlier retreated to tiny openings at the fabric covering the underside of his knuckles. In his other hand, the sleeve was open and he was holding some kind of baton; Signs of electricity jumped off the stick as he flicked it outward, extending it to full length of roughly two feet. Lastly, a rather large box was held to his back with straps criss-crossed over his chest, the odd object appearing relatively heavy. Starting at his waist, it rose a bit over his head and stopped just short of passing his shoulders on either side in width.

“Yang, I can catch up to Ruby quicker than you...” Blake clutched Gambol Shroud tightly in one hand, the breeze rustling her ribbon both on her head and weapon.

Yang cracked her knuckles and neck, prepared to give this shady freak a good beating for catching them off guard like he had. Blake took off after her other two teammates, almost getting snared by the wires again but Yang caught the thin strings before they reached their target. “You heard her, right? You’re all mine now~”

Blake left the opponent in their blonde member’s capable hands, knowing she had been itching to wallop someone and choosing not to be present for the poor soul’s brutal punishment. As she darted for the small group of trees she was trying to figure out just what was going on; her ability to detect hostility not to mention watchful eyes was in a class of its own, but these two people hadn’t set off her senses at all. This meant that the duo must have been adept; however, the man she left with Yang showed signs of self-doubt, and though he had caught her once through sheer luck his skills were sloppy at best. Knowing the second member had to be a distraction, she left Yang to mop up, but this brought to question the abductor’s nature- they had been able to conceal themselves from them, strike fast enough to take their friend, but on top of that had somehow hidden their less than proficient accomplice as well.

The trees provided little to hide being thin and having much space between each, but it was much better than being in the wide open range that Blake left behind, searching for any signs of the three who preceded her. There were glimpses of rose petals here and there that vanished just as fast as she spotted them, and within moments she caught sight of Ruby, standing with Crescent Rose in full scythe form and glaring at the back of their target. 

“Alright, Mister! The jig is up!” The statement would have been funny just by how she worded it if the moment weren’t so dire, and the man they had reached stopped whatever it was he was doing. He was sitting on the balls of his feet, completely facing away from them and focused on Weiss. She was set against the trunk of one of the small trees, still unconscious directly in front of him, though they could only see a bit of her past the man’s body. He stood to his full height, turning to them in the process; Black hair swept back messily with some still refusing to conform and remaining a set of bangs. His eyes were such a deep blue that the night sky would be jealous, and by appearances, he looked to be a handful of years older than they were.

The stranger was wearing a brown jacket with an abstract marking sewn into the back and dark patches covering the shoulders, rolled up at the sleeves where a cobalt shirt beneath carried on to the wrists. His gloves were fingerless, the jacket unbuttoned and the cobalt shirt beneath zipped up at the center. A gun the size of his thigh was strapped to that very part of his leg, over basic gray pants that led to black shoes.

Ruby looked ready to start interrogating their enemy, but before she could utter a syllable the man in question raised his voice to a less than masculine pitch, eyes lighting up as he took in the sight of her; “Look’it how small you are! Is that a rubber scythe? I don't usually get threatened by toddlers, this is a whole new experience!”

Ruby’s face jumped straight from aggressive to appalled; if her friend getting kidnapped wasn’t on her agenda today, having a bad guy mock her size out of nowhere was even less. “I-I-I’m not small! I’m still growing! I drink milk, got it?! This won't last, quit exaggerating!”

He chuckled at her flustered rebuttal. “Sorry ta tell you this, but it ain’t working, pint-size.”

“Who are you- and what are you doing with Weiss?” Blake coolly guided them back to the proper topic. The stranger set his hands on his sides and leaned to face the ground as he let some nuisance escape his lungs.

“Why is it always those questions? ‘Who?’ ‘What?’ ‘Why?’ Okay, Lemme throw a why at ya- why do you think I’d tell you any of the wh-a’s? That defeats the whole point of being secretive, ya know?” The stranger gestured wildly as he spoke, as if he had to act as composer and every word in the conversation played a different instrument. Ruby and Blake both found themselves at a loss in how to respond to that. He went on;

“To hell with it, then- let’s just get creative, yeah? I could’ve robbed her blind, I could’a sung her a eulegy. Dammit, I could’a made her brunch, any mix of the three and more- the possibilities are endless! So let’s cut the questions. The question to end the questions is this question; what’s to be done about a guy who stole your buddy, but then apologized? A coupl’a times? Sorry. Sorry, girls- real sorry. We can put this aside, I'll march over yonder, you go back to school, no hard feelin's.” He held up his hands in a less than enthusiastic surrender, stepping backward quickly to avoid a scythe to the head. Ruby had gotten her composure back, and Blake was at his other side, blocking his easiest routes of escape.

Pulling down a sleeve, he checked his watch. “If that’s your answer, I’ve got some time to kill. Show me what ya got.”

Ruby charged him head on, raking at him with a myriad of slices from Crescent Rose. The stranger ducked, lurched every which way and did the smallest of hops where necessary, staying out of the lethal curve’s path by just enough to come out unscathed. She tried swinging the blade behind him and hooking him in, but he performed a backflip over it, his spine touching the flat steel tauntingly and his hands went out to the sides when he planted his feet, goading her yet more. 

Blake took a swipe at his leg from the side, coming in low to the ground. Her adversary teetered and flopped forward, completely straight like a plank of wood, dodging her strike regardless of how low she had been and also grabbing hold of Ruby’s ankles. Pulling them out from under her, she fell on her backside as the stranger’s legs slung out to the sides against the grass, lifting himself off the ground just a bit in the weirdest position possible. Once like this, he reefed on Ruby’s still-held feet, throwing her out through his legs and beneath him like a swing dancer and causing her to tumble across the grove. Blake corrected her course and went for another cut at his legs wide apart, but he stood on his hands and brought his legs up into the air, walking on his hands just out of the attack’s range.

What the hell was going on?

Cartwheeling to his feet, their opponent adjusted his jacket upon standing. “You’re both kinda speedy. Not bad, I’d say...”

He trailed off; the sound of footsteps approaching soon revealed Yang, untouched, and dragging the accomplice by his collar- the guy was tied up by his own wires at present. The stranger pressed a hand to his face and let it slide off into a gesture of emphasis once he spoke. 

“Shmots! You had one job!”

Yang looked down at her captive, then up at the stranger. “Did I hear that right? Is your name friggin’ Shmots?!”

Body language indicated that ‘Shmots’ was as unimpressed as he could get, probably with his partner’s antics. His hands flickered at his sides where his arms were tied down, the stranger shrugging back.

“As the Yam calls the Shmots black. Anywho, I should probably jet; three on one isn’t all that favorable, and this’ll just go from the frying pan into a blast furnace if your wonderful little instructor catches on. So...” Yang internally contemplated whether or not this stranger just called her a Yam and for what reasons, Blake cut him off as he tried to take a left, and Ruby tried to cleave him vertically in half. He wasn’t getting anywhere fast.

Yang made her debut in this fight by hurling Shmots at his partner, the stranger turning sideways and tilting back to dodge his ally. He quickly caught Yang’s oncoming punch by linking her arm in his, ducked her opposite fist, and pinned her arm to his chest with his as she circled behind him through the motion of her second punch. He jumped up; bringing her along for the ride and tilting backwards to land on her with his back as well as roll in reverse onto his feet again. The stranger wasn’t fast enough to dodge Gambol Shroud when it lashed out on the end of Blake’s ribbon and licked his left shoulder, making him flinch back and allowing Yang’s recovery. 

As the stranger tried to get back his bearings, Ruby appeared behind him with petals scattered, nailing him in the ribs with the back of Crescent Rose like a hammer and knocking him off his feet. Yang slipped in from the front and swung a shot-powered fist into the man’s chin, sprawling upward on an angle until Blake’s sickle form spun around his leg to wrap it in ribbon, catching him and hurling him through a tree opposite the one Weiss was still decommissioned against. The three girls gathered a few feet from their fallen opponent, Yang and Ruby sharing a high five.

Blake was still wary of the man even though being battered and chucked through a tree would normally KO just about anyone or anything. Against the odds the stranger sprung back to his feet -as she expected- and shook his head from side to side, clearing the daze they put him in and dropping one loud laugh; was he still not taking this seriously? The thought had no time to expand from there when he struck out for her, showing the speed that had allowed the taking of Weiss. 

She barely stepped away from what she thought would be a punch... but unfortunately, his fingers flicked out to poke her in the eyes. The afterimage left by her semblance vanished, and as the real Blake reappeared the man already had a strike aimed for her, making direct contact on her bicep and shoving her away from him. Strange; the attack hadn’t hurt at all... She took a closer look at him and found that he had taken an actual stance rather than teasing them; he stood with his side facing her, head held low, with his closest arm draping down straight and his other hand up palm-out next to his shoulder. The middle finger on each of his hands was crossed over the ring finger... Again, there was nothing she could ascertain from what she was seeing.

Ruby appeared on his right, then his left, and back to his right before trying to jab the shaft of her scythe into his chest, at which point he caught the weapon and pulled it to him, and Ruby in the process, giving her one of those open-handed hits to her belly and knocking her back. He wrenched with some difficulty Crescent Rose out of Ruby’s hands much to her dismay, pitching it hard as he turned away from her- the impressive blade and rifle fusion rotated like a Frisbee over the trees, and he shielded the sun with a hand over his eyes to watch his handiwork fly off.

The stranger sneered arrogantly at Ruby, waving her on in the direction of her lost weapon. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching her leave the battle for the time being, but Crescent Rose was too important to any potential she had to change this fight to leave wherever he had thrown it to, so she ran out to get it. She blinked, started running again, and looked down at her feet. There were no rose petals. She was moving at normal speeds...

Ruby would be gone for a while yet as she had no way of cutting the travel time, so it was back to being two on one. Blake watched Ruby go in her disarray and tried to use her own semblance as well; the feeling she normally got when activating it wasn’t present. He had somehow sealed their semblances; the enigma before them was far more dangerous than she originally concluded. “Yang, don’t let him hit you! He can disrupt your semblance!”

Yang nodded grimly to her comrade, ready to break this guy’s jaw ten times over. He smirked at her, but his expression packed up and left just as fast as it came. “Yeah, no. This was fun, but we’re gonna have to reschedule ladies. Shmots! I don’t pay you to sit on ass, kid!”

The words weren’t even out of the stranger’s mouth yet when the newly freed Shmots’ wires ensnared Blake- without her semblance she could not escape as he pulled her in for a stunning blow to her midsection and released her at his feet, running over to his companion just to get cuffed in the head. Yang crouched by Blake’s side, glaring down the perpetrators as they made to escape.

“You won’t get away with this.” She warned. The stranger scoffed; turning his back on her he gave her a meager salute.

“You’d better hope that I do, Yam. Actually, tell Rubs and Wafer I’m sorry. Again. Whenever the chance arises.” And with that, the two vacated the area faster than Yang could follow without abandoning her wounded friends.

“What the hell just happened?” Blake was thinking what Yang said out loud, trying to come to terms with their almost defeat. Blake recuperated in a few moments, as the stun rod Shmots had wasn’t set to any powerful voltage by the way it had felt, and sat on the side of Weiss that Yang wasn’t. Some inspection revealed that she was only bruised on the back of her neck, no traces of other injuries. It would take some time still for her to awaken by the looks of it.

“Does that guy think my name is Yam? Which would mean... Ruby is Rubs, and Weiss is Wafer?” Blake pressed her finger and thumb to her closed eyes, trying not to think any more about it.

Ruby returned to the scene with Crescent Rose holstered where it belonged, rushing out just to see that they had lost the suspects. She settled with sitting with her knees drawn up in front of Weiss, concern drenching her like rain.

Unexpectedly, Glynda descended from over the trees into the area they were sited, observing the four and the immediate surroundings before she stopped being so tense. The inconvenience of it suggested he'd sensed her coming, perhaps. “It is good to see you all safe. Is Miss Schnee unharmed?”

Blake had figured that Glynda or another teacher was watching over them through surveillance on their scroll, but the thought seemingly hadn’t crossed the sisters. Considering the way the stranger chose to get out just before she arrived, he must have known she was close by somehow as well. “She seems to be fine. She just has yet to come to her senses.”

Glynda nodded as she walked over to the team, Ruby looking at her instructor over her shoulder. She seemed absolutely miserable. “I couldn’t protect my teammates... I could barely get a solid hit on that creep!”

Yang set a hand on her sibling’s shoulder, and Glynda actually comforted her as well; “You performed admirably against such an opponent- I was able to witness most of the confrontation through our surveillance of the area... He was quite skilled. Just about any team in your place would have been just as overwhelmed.” She paused, and Blake wondered where these cameras might have been. Drones, maybe? “Are there any small details about the attackers that you can tell me? I was unable to see their faces through the cameras.”

Yang explained that anything involving Shmots’ face was a lost cause, but Blake was the first to give Glynda something to work with, still being worried about the fact that it hadn’t gone away; “He had an odd technique... With a light hit from his hands, he was able to suppress our semblances. Ruby and I both were afflicted.”

Glynda studied the both of them, mostly where the strikes had landed. She pushed at her glasses, thinking intently. “I am unfamiliar with what it is he did to you... We will have to keep watch over you both when we return to Beacon; if any other symptoms appear, things may get messy. Further, we need to know a rough estimate of when the suppression wears off...” she neglected to add ‘if it does wear off’.

Ruby’s eyes were still downcast, but with a jolt she perked up and got Glynda’s attention; “He had pointy teeth.”

“... pointy teeth?”

“Yes. The one that took Weiss smiled at me and talked a lot, and all of his teeth were sharp.”

“Was he a Faunus, then?”

“Probably...”

Glynda nodded, turning on her heel. She seemed to believe this was all they knew outside of what she had recorded on her scroll... Something she would probably be watching numerous times before the day was through. “I will escort you all back to the academy. Come along.”

After a few minutes of walking across the Field, Weiss stirred as Yang carried her at the middle of the group. Ruby excitedly bounced over to them when she took notice, Blake and Glynda doing the same with less childishness.

“Ugh... What? Why am I... Why is Miss Goodwitch?...” As she took another moment to file through her delirium, Weiss set her feet on the ground and stumbled slightly, but regained her balance around the time her mind became clear. “What happened?”

“You were abducted.” Blake candidly answered, causing their white member’s eyes to widen. They briefly summed up what had happened, trying to properly explain that the main perpetrator was in fact just as whacky as they were saying.

“Well, I’ve only got a headache... Did he take anything from me?” She checked her pockets and Myrtenaster, but found nothing amiss. That fact alone had her wondering, considering anyone who'd had this sort of opportunity would have made off considerably wealthier even with just her boots.

Glynda gestured to Weiss as she spoke, getting her attention. "From what it appears, no, but all the same... you only just started your term here. We wouldn't like to strain our relations with your father, and the company -might you keep today's events to yourself until we find anything definitive?"

Weiss, unused to such a self-serving request from someone like her teacher, slowly nodded affirmation as she explained why along the way. “I suppose so... but really, why did this even happen if I wasn't harmed or robbed?" Blake, not thinking this would ease her conscience but perhaps give it a new circuit to lap, recounted her abductor's words;

“Um... well, he said he may have –and I quote- ‘Robbed you blind, sung you a eulegy, or made you brunch’.”

Weiss, unable to piece this together any better than before, rubbed her head's pain away as best she could, following their teacher back home with the others.

/////

“No, Shmots. I didn’t go and snap bones or dismember anybody. We’re good.” The Stranger and Shmots were leaving the fields behind already, their pace slowed as they were well past the point that Goodwitch would have given chase. Shmots was communicating through sign language so barbaric that it was really just an advanced game of charades; one that his companion seemed good at.

The Stranger watched more gestures before responding apprehensively; “Well whaddaya want me to say, man? I’ve got no reason to mess with you. We’re on the same team, right? Right. Look, this is just the start- the first step on the broken escalator, Shmots. Don’t you wanna wring the neck on the one who broke the escalator? I do. I really, really do.”

Shmots shifted the box mounted on him for comfort, looking irritably at the man. It was obvious even without signs what he was asking about;

What was the next step?


	7. School Life

Steven was aware that he had a strange team.

Many of the male students had instantly taken to envy, and then taken just as quickly to liking him once he revealed a socially normal and completely average personality that could fit within any given clique. The envy still remained, however, as Steven was one of lucky few who not only was a part of, but led a team comprised of himself and three stunningly attractive girls.

The girls themselves, however, were odd in some ways. Helena was apparently of such high class that she was the equivalent of and regarded as some tiny country’s royalty, and as such was unused to living without servants. Or a bed bigger than their dorm. Or seven pools. She was under the impression they were living as paupers, and it was some kind of long-term assignment to live through the hardships of not having the faucet spew money upon turning it on.

Nicole and Teresa were inseparable, but beyond that their tendencies were a little strange. Both liked to take one another’s notes by writing their own and swapping after classes, make jokes where they expected the other to throw down the punch line, and various other small activities that were somehow being shared despite being just as easily done by one of them. Teresa seemed a little edgy at times, Nicole a flat neutral and untalkative, choosing to let her sister do that for both of them nine times out of ten. None of the small quirks and irritabilities, however, prepared him for their first night sleeping in the same room.

His bed was at the far end of the dorm, Helena not too keen on sharing the ‘small’ bedchamber and generally personal space with a boy. She wore a silken yellow night gown of sorts to sleep, and judging by her inability to wake when the others were doing their own things around the room, slept quite deeply. Steven just wore some pyjama pants and a sleeveless shirt, but still felt mildly uncomfortable about this strangely unbalanced sleepover party that the next four years promised. Were his house manners up to the standards of women? He'd never had an actual sister.

Steven tried to force himself to stay on his right side, looking at the wall, the night spent for a while trying to figure out how he could live in the same place as these three. Whoever had seen fit to allow co-ed dorms in a place like this must have had a screw loose, or just wanted him to mentally agonize about it... He did, however, manage to drift off to slumber without too much difficulty; the day had been long and exhausting. 

/////

The next morning, RSOL’s first day as a team was turning out to be a bit hectic, as the four of them weren’t exactly blending very well. Regis and Laera were still sore about Obaz nearly ditching them on the cliffs, Sophia still held hostility toward Regis, Laera was fed up with their leader constantly coming onto her and held an unvoiced distaste for Sophia; whom was still on good terms with Obaz. The four of them had stowed away their equipment and taken on the student uniforms, only differences being a few accessories the girls had kept... and Obaz keeping his hat and gloves, oddly enough. Regis pointed this out, but none of them wanted to ask, thinking it was another one of his strange quirks.

Sophia couldn’t figure out for the life of her why the Headmaster had chosen Regis as their leader over Obaz. Sure, he was the one that had put together the joint attack on the last Nevermore, but Obaz had proven himself more than capable of leading them to success in just about any situation. It was likely because he was so cold about the two when they were on the cliffs... Regis’ theory was that Ozpin chose the first team letter as the leader and built the teams solely trying to make a name out of them, which she chose not to believe.

“The dorm room’s kinda small... It’d be fine if some people hadn’t brought two tonnes of luggage with them.” Regis got a punch in the shoulder from Sophia and Laera both, as he was referring to the two of them- Laera had dragged in a number of bags of clothes and other such things while Sophia had various care packages for her equipment. Regis had an average number of well-balanced belongings, and Obaz had a single burlap sack, sheaves of paper sticking out the top. He set this on a desk and moved said desk to the corner of the room.

“I heard one team slapped together some bunk beds. I think it might’ve been that rumored RWBY team, actually- we could do that?” Laera suggested. Regis seemed less than agreeable, though Sophia could care less.

Obaz spoke up from by the desk he was outfitting with his utensils; “We can simply remove my bed if space is a problem. I do not sleep.”

“... It’s like he tries to be weirder every five minutes.” Regis was jabbed with an elbow as Sophia delved deeper;

“You don’t sleep? Do you have Insomnia?”

“That would be the term for being incapable of sleep, would it not?” She quickly regretted defending him.

“But where would we put the bed? It’s not like it fits in the closet.” Laera showcased the size of the bed as if it was difficult to tell without her aid. Obaz frowned.

“I will ask a teacher. There is most certainly a storage space fitting the likes of this in the dormitory building...” Obaz left the room, shutting the door to their newly shared living space behind him. His teammates glanced between each other, animosity already brewing thick.

“I don’t know if I can handle living in the same dorm as that guy for four years of my life...” Regis said to no one in particular. Sophia snapped back;

“I’d choose him as a roommate well before you. At least he doesn’t undress me with his eyes every second of the day.”

Laera scoffed at the blonde before she was even finished, “Of course you would, being the only one of us three that he hasn’t considered a waste of space.” Sophia had no rebuttal for that...

Regis ran a hand through his hair in frustration, willing himself to calm down. “Alright, look- if we keep biting each other’s heads off like this there’s no way we’ll pull together as a team. Being the leader, that doesn’t sit right with me. How about we get better acquainted?”

The two girls eyed him with distaste, like he had morphed into something infuriating just to look at when he tried to better the situation. He mentally ran through what he said and caught the blunder, hands waving like white flags.

“No, no, no- I didn’t mean ‘get better acquainted’ like that. For once. I just think if we find some common ground, it’ll be easier to get along.” They still appeared suspicious, and looking at each other they recognized their polar opposition like looking into the reverse of a mirror. Still, it wasn’t as if the idea held no merit- they would have to live and fight together for better or worse, after all.

“Okay, where should we start?” Regis wanted to say something about personal sizes, but kept his trap shut. He tapped his foot in search of a topic to get the ball rolling, snapping his fingers once he got something.

“Sophia and I are both from families of a higher class. What about you, Laera?”

She shrugged at the boy, having expected that from his appearance. Not so much in Sophia, though. “Nothing special. My parents own a restaurant; ‘Camille’s Classico’- We had a comfortable life on a good income. My grades are really what took me to Beacon.” She paused. “My turn; how is it that you two know each other? There’s history between you, clearly.”

Sophia and Regis’ moods dropped with the inquiry. “We dated.”

“I hardly call what you did ‘dating’.” Sophia glowered at him, causing him to take a step further from her. Laera’s expression showed her interest in just what had happened, but it appeared they would remain tight-lipped about it.

Obaz emerged from the doorway now, breaking the silence; “Mr. Port has arranged for the bed to be taken from here while we are in classes. After that you may reorganize the dorm as you see fit; but please keep that desk where it is.” He motioned to the one he had been fiddling with before leaving.

“What were you doing before entering Beacon, Obaz?” Sophia included their other teammate without a second thought. He replied bluntly;

“I was taken aboard a shuttle to Beacon.” She raised an eyebrow at his choice of reply.

“Let’s rephrase that. What was your life like before you came here?” Obaz took a moment to look down at his hands. He seemed reluctant to divulge these details, which was something Laera was homing in on. She crept up from behind and jabbed his sides, trying to tickle him, but rather than starting to laugh he practically jumped out of his skin, smacking up against the closest wall like she would rip him to shreds.

“Why are you touching me?!” Obaz voice raised a pitch, quite unlike him. Laera recovered from her surprise to explain herself;

“You looked like you were going to dip out on the question, so I thought I’d tickle you.” 

“... What is ‘tickling’?” He asked with a dead serious tone. Laera struggled for a moment but broke out into a giggle fit that physically murdered his eardrums. While she was coming down from the humor cloud she was on, Sophia picked up where she left off; 

“So you’ve never been tickled before? You know, when someone prickles you with their fingers in the sides or the neck and it feels really weird?”

Obaz shook his head no. “Why would someone do that?” He appeared to be looking for some kind of reason or gain to be found in tickling someone. Laera skipped over the topic, going back to what she sought after;

“So? What was your life like before Beacon? You don’t seem like the rich folk we got over there.” Sophia looked unhappy being lumped in with Regis in anything, and Obaz cut to the chase before Laera could try this ‘tickling’ thing again;

“I worked as an Automotive and Hydraulics Engineer at Petto Automotive. I worked repairs and restorations mostly, though some personal projects of mine met success...” He had slowed his speech slightly as he went on, noting Laera’s face gradually expressing some kind of realization. She didn’t seem prepared to voice it, so he left her be. Regis slid a comment up on top of the conversation;

“Seeing as you’re pretty smart, you must’ve graduated your previous school early, huh?”

“This is the first time I have been to a school of any kind. I have had no education prior to now.” Regis raised an eyebrow, and both the girls shot him more drastic looks of befuddlement. He sighed, explaining further;

“I have what is called an ‘Eidetic Memory’. Through this, the possession of a high IQ, and the use of mnemonics I retain information far better than most people...” They seemed at least partly lost in what he was saying, so he simplified; “I can memorize and recall any information I come across. I lived near a public library, and within a year I obtained the equivalent of a post-secondary education.”

Laera and Regis looked at each other, and then stood before Obaz for a second. Regis held up a hand, index finger raised; 

“4,125 divided by 20.”

“206.25.”

Obaz responded within a second of the equation being spoken. Sophia had a calculator in hand, looking impressed as she nodded to Regis.

“Square root of... 985?”

“31, rounded down.”

Another instant, and correct answer. Laera had a thumb under her chin as she thought.

“How about the author of ‘Night’s Wi-’”

Obaz was answering before she got through the second syllable. “Fransesca Rasseris, Author of ‘Night’s Wishes Come True’, One of Vale’s bestselling books twenty-two years ago. Illustrated by David Pauls and published by Etchnics Ltd., the second last novel she ever wrote.” He paused. “If you are done, we should be on our way to classes.”

He shook his head as he left the room, Laera speechless and the other two bearing a head tilt. She took a second to explain. “I had to do a book report on that once... He had that down to the letter...”

“Forget tries- he is weirder every five minutes.” Regis grabbed his book bag from against his chosen bed’s headboard, leaving a moment after Obaz while the girls collected their own supplies.

/////

When Steven awoke next door to Resolve’s dorm, he concluded that yes, his classmates had rights to be jealous of him upon passing the foot of Helena’s bed. He stepped back in front of her bed for a moment, pinched himself, and found he wasn’t dreaming; the twins had at some time last night migrated from their own beds into hers, and the three of them were comfortably spooning. The sheets and blankets were in disarray, the twins pressed against the silken blonde between them.

Steven made breakfast. Cooking an omelette and some hashbrowns kept his attention to his own work and away from this least sexual situation he’d ever seen, and in doing so would make him appear innocent to any temptations they might accuse him of having. The very fact that the dorms were co-ed seemed unusual but it was like the three members of his own team were trying to make it as tense as possible. Once he plated the meal, he sat at the coffee table he had quietly moved closer to his own bed, catching Helena eying him.

She was now wide awake, probably having woken groggily at first but quickly realizing she was no longer alone in her bed. She attempted to move from between the twins, and they both instinctively held her tighter in their peaceful rest. Steven laughed softly and ate a piece of omelette, but once Helena started mouthing angry requests for assistance he sighed, returning to the kitchen and cooking more food. It was all the same as what he just had, but he felt like seconds and made sure the scent would drift this time. Within minutes he had the three girls out of bed, Helena eating with a dazed look while Nicole and Teresa looked somewhat guilty.

“We, um... We always slept in the same bed with our mom. We probably sort of sleepwalked over to you, being the only other girl nearby.” Teresa quietly explained whilst wringing her hands, eyes downcast.

Helena looked up from the food she was eating. “W-what? I... hang on.”

Quickly mowing through the rest of her food, Helena set her eyes on the twins but still seemed out of sorts. “Look, you didn’t really disturb me, so just... uh... okay, really, Steven. Where did you learn how to cook?!”

Steven’s eyebrows rose as his plate was stolen out from under his utensils and Helena started devouring the contents. He carried on in her place; “I think what she is trying to say is that you ought to break the habit. I somehow doubt you guys can keep that up unless you synchronized your sleep schedules or something.”

Fortunately, according to Helena, Steven’s homely cooking was godlike to her taste buds and gave him a bargaining chip if ever she was upset with him over anything. Nicole and Teresa also enjoyed the service and agreed the taste was good, so his role in their day-to-day lives had been established quite easily. The morning’s transgressions soon passed, and they began to converse over the table;

“So I forgot to ask you, but what the hell happened during the initiation? You went from full-blown coward to big bad bird cleaver soon as Obaz had a word with you. I take it that orange glow was your semblance or something?” Teresa certainly had her way with words. Steven had hoped that it would stay forgotten.

“My semblance doubles the velocity at which my weapon swings when I move it, based on the number of times it flashes. Once is twice strength, second is four times... The highest number of charges I’ve ever reached is five. It only lasts for one swing, so I have to make it count; coming down with an overhead swing adds gravity into the equation at the last second, so that’s the best way for me to go with it.” 

Thirty-two times power. The three of them fell quiet while they did the math; that was just ridiculous. “As for Obaz’ part in the initiation... He just talked me out of the fear. He gave me something to be more afraid of, actually; any of you dying off because I did nothing.” He shrugged. The three of them thought there was more to it by appearances. “You go talk to him, see how convincing he can be. The guy’s got a gift... Hell, he made you shut up –I want him to impart a little of that secret.” Helena’s glare shut him up instead; in comparison, his was a mouth made for socks.

Helena, being the one who ate the most of Steven’s breakfast, took care of the expended dishes but left some for after classes as they were running short on time. When Nicole brought this to attention, she and her sister threw off Steven’s shirts in plain sight as they got dressed next to their respective beds. Steven made friends with a certain knot in the wood grain of the coffee table he named Distraction, and Helena used the bathroom area like he had expected her to.

The four now in uniform, they moved on to their first class learning the anatomy and behaviours of different species of Grimm. Later on, learning what you normally did in a school like mathematics and language proved their team had good heads on their shoulders; Nicole and Teresa were both pretty knowledgeable, Helena struggling a bit with languages as her native tongue was from that tiny country Steven still could not name off the top of his head. He gave her a hand in that department, and she in turn helped him in combined strategies; mainly because combined strategies were one of the most important classes for a team leader. Team STNH’s homework would fly between the four of them for the first little while of their attendance of Beacon, and Glynda would consider them one of the most naturally well-cooperating teams in the school year, both physically and academically. Compared to the chemistry in team RSOL, they were perfect matches.

/////

Their first class to attend was history under Mr. Oobleck, whom Obaz recognized as the skinny and disheveled man wearing glasses at his interview. He zipped across the area designated his, from the chalkboard, to his podium, over to the students closest him and back to the board in an orderly but fast fashion. Obaz had two textbooks open before him, neither of which was for this class, eyes skimming back and forth between the two as fast as their teacher was on foot. He still processed what was being said from the teacher, leaving him practically the contrary of those students without books open, nor able to follow the lesson.

At a point, Mr. Oobleck asked the class about one of the events he was building up to; “And the name of that battle would be...? Hmm... Let’s ask one of the new exchange students this time. Mr. Petto?”

Obaz looked up from his texts irritably, answering; “The battle of Graypart.”

“Very good, Obaz. Now-”

“I would prefer it if you did not call upon me to respond any longer, Mr. Oobleck. I must divide my focus elsewhere.” There was a shocked silence among the students there, and Mr. Oobleck himself seemed to frown a bit, zooming over to the lowest seats in Obaz’ row.

“Now, Now why is that, Mr. Petto? Do you believe that History is not beneficial information to you?” Obaz flipped a page in one of the books, setting his sights on the teacher afterward.

“Not so. I simply know the lessons you are trying to impart already, Mr. Oobleck. I meant no disrespect.”

Oobleck nodded, sipping his coffee much like Ozpin often did. “I see. So, would you like to teach the class instead? Being knowledgeable as you are, surely you can teach a better lesson than I.”

Obaz looked up again, his mouth pressing into a line. “If I have no time to offer responses to your questions, why would I wish to teach the rest of these students? That is your job.” He stopped momentarily, and then added; “If it is a question of capability, I have narrowed down the potential course layouts of this class to six possibilities based on today’s lesson. If you believe my estimate from here is sufficient, I most certainly could pick up from here, however I would prefer not to.”

Sophia and Laera were shrugging and waving off the students seated next to them, trying to show they didn’t really get him either. Mr. Oobleck sipped his coffee. “I see... I will be having you expand on a certain subject near the end of class, once per week- If you are to attend this class, you will be learning something from it. Is that fine with you?”

Obaz’ line became thinner, but an exhale showed his understanding that there was no victory to be had after the grave he had dug. “Very well, Mr. Oobleck.”

The lesson dragged on, but it seemed today would be the exception to the new rule Oobleck had set down for Obaz as he finished without calling on him. As the students filed out of the room, a number of them swarmed Obaz asking why he felt the need to standoff with the teacher. He may as well have been an inanimate object, not looking at, listening to or responding to his fellow classmates. Turning a corner and leaving them behind, he decided his free time before the next class would be spent where he could study further in peace.

“... and I apologize for you both having to miss your class with Mr. Oobleck. It would seem the effects disappear after an hour or so, and no lingering side effects have appeared. I will not be watching you for symptoms any longer.”

Miss Goodwitch was speaking to a dark-haired girl wearing a bow alongside a red-and-black clad girl; judging by info from the grapevine these were Ruby and Blake of Team RWBY. Obaz had no qualms with eavesdropping, though he did not actively pursue the opportunity when one presented itself he wouldn’t pass it up. Backing back around the corner he passed, he listened in from this distance;

“I don’t think Yang and Weiss went either. Weiss has been worried about what might have happened, and Yang has been training herself really hard since we got back.” The high pitched voice was likely belonging to the youngest member here, Ruby.

The tone up next must have belonged to Blake; “Did you find anything on the assailant, Ms. Goodwitch?” He heard the telltale sound of a scroll opening, intrigued.

“There are no Faunus registered to appear like the man you met with, and the insignia on the back of his jacket corresponds with a common brand of clothing. So far there is nothing, I regret to inform.” He heard footsteps headed in his direction partway through her reply to Blake; as they entered his section of the hall, they looked over to see him with his back turned, looking up at the crease where the wall met the ceiling and a camera was mounted.

“What the-? Who... Who are you? Were you listening to all that?” Ruby sounded surprised, though looking over his shoulder to see them he noted Blake’s unfazed yellow eyes gazing at him. He frowned, and then gestured at the camera.

“I was leaving my class when I noticed that this was deactivated. I was wondering if it were faulted.” The excuse was pathetically weak.

Glynda adjusted her glasses. She should probably get them resized. “Quite a small thing to notice, Mr. Petto...”

Obaz suppressed a small frown, shrugging. “These halls are a public space. I may stand where I please, correct?” Glynda nodded him on his way, and he heard a bit of iteration on his identity to the girls from the instructor but chose to move on quickly.

Fifteen minutes rolled by, and he set his books aside before entering the arena where their combat class would be taking place. Numerous teams stood together in their gear, and he was picked out by his allies as they entered after him. Luckily, they had taken something from his lack of exchange with the students as he left their last class, not asking him to explain himself when there was nothing to explain about the event.

He looked to the side when he heard one of the people he had been listening to only moments ago, only to see Ruby pointing at him. Blake and the two members he had yet to meet –the blindingly white Weiss and brilliantly gold Yang- were looking at him now since he was being specified. 

“This is the guy that was eavesdropping on us earlier! Blake, what was his name?”

“Obaz Petto.” Yang grabbed her head in her hands, seemingly frustrated over this?

“First Shmots, Now Obaz? I don’t-”

Weiss interjected with displeasure before Yang could finish; “What did Ms. Goodwitch say about that? We’re not talking about it. Any of it.”

Yang was keeping away from Weiss now, hands up in apology. Laera grabbed hold of the conversation like a lever and pulled it back onto what she wanted to hear. “So... Obaz was eavesdropping? Whatever were you doing that for, huh?”

“It was not as if I followed them. We happened to be in connected halls; their volume was not in my control, so I may have heard something they said- next time, it would be wise to stay inside a closed room.”

All of the members of his team and theirs seemed less than satisfied with the way he put it. Regis stepped forward, trying to ease the atmosphere a little. “Hey! Ah... I suppose introductions are in order? We’re one of the new exchange teams; I’m Regis... You already met Obaz. Sophia, Laera.”

Team RWBY promptly introduced themselves after Weiss politely took up Regis’ offer, things becoming less tense. There were some basic battle exercises going on around the room as instructed by Glynda when she arrived, and they too took part. Twenty minutes later, the teacher stopped them and began picking people out for one-on-one spars, RWBY and RSOL ending up side-by-side again and mingling. 

Regis was repeatedly elbowed as his vision kept drifting to Yang’s general chest area, Ruby and Laera idly chatting. After the first spar was over, Glynda began announcing the next two students to come up to the stage for a duel.

“Yang Xiao Long.” The blonde beauty boxed with thin air for a moment, smirking as some cheers and whistles sounded out for her before she ascended to the stage near Goodwitch. 

“Nice. Yang could use a good win after the- oh, right. Sorry.” Ruby was getting a fierce look from the heiress in her team, stopping her short.

The instructor poured over the students yet to go up and handle an opponent, stopping with a flash of amusement on Obaz. They had had an altercation of sorts in the hall just past half an hour ago; why wouldn’t she? “And Obaz Petto.”

Ruby groaned now, watching Obaz soundlessly leave his position among them. Laera turned to face her fully, puzzled. “What’s the problem?” Ruby just sighed, Blake taking up the clarification;

“Just about every boy that goes up against Yang throws the fight, since for one she’s so strong most of them give up. But a lot of them seem to think that they can win her over for a date if she beats them easily, for whatever reasons.” Regis attached matter-of-factly that; “Popular as she is, it’s gotten to the point where she calls the entire male student body the ‘friend zone’.”

Of course he would know that part... Laera snickered at the scenario, but shook her head. “As much as Obaz isn’t the best combatant at times, she won’t have to worry about him throwing the fight...”

Weiss simply stated, “We’ll just have to wait and see, then.”

As Glynda signaled for the duel to start, the spectators would find this to be a peculiar match.


	8. Bright Gold and Dull Chrome

The two students of Beacon stood about ten meters apart, the violet eyes beholding Obaz having lost much of the light of excitement they had moments ago. He couldn’t hear Blake telling Laera exactly why his opponent’s enthusiasm had taken a dive from here, but it mattered little to him. Judging by her gauntlets she was equipped with, she was a close-quarters fighter... He would have some problems here, as his flamberge and spear forms were long and difficult to parry these kinds of blows with. Furthermore, firearms were exempt from use in a tournament-styled duel –the ones they were practicing at present- unless used as means of propulsion through recoil, as most Hunter-approved advanced weaponry could. His was not capable of such things; hers likely were. If he wanted any shot at winning here, he would need to pull a few tricks out of his sleeves... Luckily, he was more used to fighting other human beings than merciless beasts.

The Mk. III was in hand now, formed to flamberge. Ruby voiced some intrigue in the weapon; “That doesn’t look like any huntsman weapon registered in the Beacon Codex. Handmade?” Laera shrugged, not knowing.

Yang took up a neutral fist fighting stance, resembling a boxer- he was familiar with that sort of style, but he did not eliminate the chance of her mixing some more sophisticated forms in with what she was showing here. Obaz held his blade in a basic fashion as well, prepared for any moves she may abruptly make when Glynda brought the match to a start.

Both he and Yang rushed each other at the same time and same pace, meeting at the center of the stage. Yang looked as if she hadn’t expected him to come first, bringing up her forearms to defend against his horizontal slash. He swung at her armguards once more in hopes to knock her off balance but she instead shoved his weapon away, swinging a diagonal uppercut toward his jaw. Releasing the Mk. III with his left hand, he batted the punch off course so it passed up between his face and shoulder, following this with stepping forward to shoulder check her out of her comfortable in-fighting range.

The girl recovered near instantly and came at him with a flurry of jabs and straights in no particular order; he evaded a number of them but was clipped once in the cheekbone, which threw him off for three more shots to the midsection, tossing him back tilting forwards and off his feet to all fours. Obaz stood quickly with a rising arc from his sword, keeping Yang from moving in on him again.

Glynda looked at her scroll with lingering glances as opposed to the short ones she often used, as something looked off... Whenever Obaz was struck, his aura indicated on the screen above as well as her own scroll fell as it should have, but fluctuated as it went down; as if being replenished in reaction to the drop to a point where it settled. It didn’t appear that he was cheating by any means if that were even possible... Was his aura merely unstable in some way? She gave the match more attention as it carried on.

Gritting his teeth, Obaz’ frustration steadily rose as he ducked a fist to the face to find the other already coming in for a low hook, stepped away from that to see knuckles inches from his eye, evading sideways to just get a leg swung into his stomach and throwing him to the side. She was too damned fast... By the time he wanted to take a shot she was halfway through making another of her own. His blade was lightweight compared to what it could have been, but the sheer size left him too open; watching Yang’s movements, she began to circle him, giving him a breather. He frowned.

Glynda’s eyes widened as Obaz swapped his weapon to gun form, but did not aim it at her. Instead, he made sure the safety was on, and then ran for Yang directly. She didn’t know what to make of this, so she swung a straight right arm at his face, which he didn’t try to dodge at all; instead, he rolled off her attack to her right when it struck his left cheek, whirling with his momentum and bringing down the Mk. III’s stock onto her head, finally making contact and forcing her to dip down. She tried coming up for an uppercut again, but he slipped to her left and brought a stroke to her jaw, followed by a smash that she blocked with her other hand though she stumbled away from it. Obaz refused to relent here, switching to spear form to chase her across the range she had gained and causing her to deflect the spearhead, soon getting her equilibrium back. 

Her eyes had gotten that excitement back in them, and her mouth was shaping a wide grin, something that caught Obaz off guard just long enough for her to get up close unhindered and thrust his spear well away from her, planting a strike in his right forearm that jolted the Mk. III out of his grip and to the floor. He hadn’t quite thought of a way to get it back into his possession but had no time to figure that out as... his opponent’s hair lit up? Her hands nailed him so fast all over that he could only catch the blurs; he registered around eleven hits within four seconds when the last hit his chest and hurled him across the stage to land on his side. He briefly caught a glimpse of his scroll’s thumbnail screen mounted on the Mk. III’s hilt across the way; it registered him at yellow, just above what would be considered red. He couldn’t take many more hits or this would be over.

Yang started walking up to him with a smirk. She noticed his hat coming loose and falling off when he got up into a crouch, and when he turned his head to meet her gaze their eyes met briefly; they were a hazel color, and the dark circles near them practically made them shine with the contrast. Did this guy ever sleep? Something interesting yet disturbing that she couldn’t quite describe even to herself was happening behind those eyes, and it held her curiosity like a hostage just before he was up and coming at her, positioned much like she was- he wasn’t planning to re-arm himself, but take her on hand-to-hand now... The nerve he was showing made her smile even brighter.

The two of them were evenly matched for a few seconds, dodging and blocking every strike the other made with astonishing speed, but when Yang began to pick up her pace and add a few low kicks to his legs he was soon getting devastated by a rain of little blows that he had had enough of. Catching her left wrist in his right hand, he held it up and to the side fully stretched, bringing them face to face. She tried to bring in a short-ranged punch to his torso, but his left hand caught her fist and clutched it tight, holding it back. The two of them struggled this way trying to gain ground on the other momentarily, until both of them concluded a headbutt was called for simultaneously.

Both of them flinched and drew back when their foreheads collided, Yang being released and pulling through the shock faster than Obaz to take a mighty swing into his chest, launching him flat on his back and sliding against the floor. She made a mad dash for him, hand raised back and prepared to streak down right into his nose when the two of them froze in response to Glynda’s authoritative voice;

“That is quite enough, you two. This match is over.” Yang had halted just short of Obaz’ face and his foot was drawn back, poised to kick her in the chest to knock her back. The two of them took a moment to return from the battle high they were experiencing, Yang turning her fist into a hand up. He ignored it, choosing to roll over and stand by himself.

Obaz first set his hat back on his head, and then stooped to retrieve the Mk. III, listening to Ms. Goodwitch as she continued; “As you can all plainly see, Mr. Petto’s aura has fallen into the red. This leaves Yang Xiao Long as the victor here.” She turned on her heel to look at him now. 

“Obaz, you performed commendably... but you would do well to have some patience; the situation may change more to your favor without forcing it in such haste.” He nodded to the tidbit of advice quietly.

As Glynda announced the next set to come up to the stage and battle, Yang hopped off with a spring to her step, landing before her teammates and taking up her stance again, shifting from foot to foot. “Damn, that was intense! I’m still ready to go!” She shadowboxed for a moment until Ruby caught her hands, holding them between the two. 

“You weren’t kidding, Laera- he’s pretty persistent.” Ruby said. Laera made smalltalk with Yang asking about her hair earlier while Obaz now stepped down from the stage, not expecting Sophia to grab his shoulder and hold him still as she prodded his chest out of nowhere. He winced and grabbed her hand to stop what she was doing, repeating something from this morning.

“Why are you touching me?...” He spoke more calmly this time in comparison.

Having noticed his reaction when she pressed a certain spot, she shook her head at him before she began to reprimand. “You’ve got some kinda screw loose in there, don’t you? Did she break your ribs?”

The statement drew the other team’s attention, Yang in particular getting closer as he grimaced. “Two of them are fractured. After some deliberation, there seems to be no internal damage.” Sophia looked ready to rip him a new one, at which point he lifted a hand to stop her before she started. 

“I understand that self-diagnosis is dangerous. I merely wanted to wait until the class ended before bringing myself to the infirmary... You need not worry.”

Yang looked dreadfully guilty now compared to the adrenaline rushed thrill she was voicing prior. “Guess I got a little carried away... Your aura was still up and running, so I was trusting Ms. Goodwitch to make the call.”

“It’s not your fault. Obaz’ aura sucks when it comes to absorbing damage.” Sophia acted as if she knew him inside out... Obaz maintained his frown when he turned to look at Yang.

“Do not apologize. If you had held back any further, both of us would have suffered. For different reasons.”

Yang laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Noticed that, did you?... I don’t mean to insult, but you’re a little shoddy. Fun, but shoddy.”

“... Would you like to schedule a rematch?”

The blonde froze, looking at him for a split second but broke the short silence in a groan. “This was all just some ploy to ask me out? I should have known...”

Obaz’ omnipresent scowl deepened and it occurred to Yang that her going easy hadn’t bothered him on the surface, but this was. What he said next got her hair to flash for a second when her vexation became anger; “Why would I want to date you? I bear no romantic interest in you whatsoever. We just met not an hour ago... I only wish to face you in combat again when I have become more proficient.”

Sure, he made sense, but just about every guy she ever met would pounce on an opportunity to spend time with her; Obaz sounded like the idea repulsed him completely. Yang couldn’t help but seethe at the core when she heard it. Despite still keeping her rage in check, she pushed the conversation.

“Oh, I see. My bad... So when do you wanna have this ‘rematch’ of yours?” Obaz rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand, something he often did while in thought.

“Two weeks should suffice.” Weiss looked skeptical at this short time frame being enough for Obaz to catch up to her teammate, but Yang showed no signs of caring as she blurted out at a volume the whole class could hear;

“Alright then, Obaz! It’s a date!”

Pretty much every person at hand including the teacher and the two currently locked in battle stopped to look at the source of the outburst, most in pure bewilderment. Obaz was hunched with his hands up at his sides, his lack of comprehension written like ink on paper. “That... That is exactly what I told you this is not going to be!”

Yang smiled triumphantly when she could see the numerous jealous looks from each male student looking their way, Regis included; all of which were ready to spite him should the chance arise. She rested her hands on her hips, setting her sights back on Obaz. “Oh, come on. I thought a smart guy like you would know that a ‘date’ is just another word for ‘meeting’.” He wasn’t fond of the playful excuse for her choice of words. He could tell what she was doing. She was reveling in the false jealousy she'd forced on him.

Ruby stood next to Yang still, looking lost. Yang fell out of her amusement when her sister piped in without understanding; “Wait, wait, wait! Yang, what do you see in this guy?! He’s an eavesdropper! And a bad fighter! And he’s... he’s really weird!” Blake pulled her aside and whispered into her ear, allowing her to realize what her sister was up to with the added help. Laera was containing her laughter like she might explode with the help of Regis as support.

Up until assisting Ruby, Blake had remained hushed, watching Obaz with caution, and now returned to doing so. He had noticed this some time ago, as the look hadn’t faltered since they met in the hallway. She was suspicious of him, for what reasons he was unsure- but the watchfulness had only intensified after the match was done. She gave him a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, as well -like he should maybe be noticing something about her that he simply wasn't.

Ultimately, Ruby had repeatedly slighted him. He was being ignored by Weiss. Blake was staring him down like he was going to succumb to murderous urges any moment. And Yang? Yang had forged him a reputation solely to create a whirlwind of forged envy- right after cracking his ribs.

He did not like team RWBY.

When it appeared that their interaction was at an end, he took himself elsewhere and left the seven of them to their own devices. Unfortunately, Ruby had no intention of letting him escape, leaving Yang and Laera moments after noticing him trying to distance himself from the others. She began to speak and he raised an eyebrow, thinking perhaps he judged Ruby at least a bit too quickly.

“Sorry. I kinda flew off the handle for a minute back there... I didn’t mean all that stuff I said. Bad fighter. Weirdo. You know...” She was awkward about it, but at least she was trying.

“I thought I had given a poor impression before your sister’s involvement... ” His head flicked slightly toward the stage when Blake was called upon to fight a boy named Dove. He tilted his head at that, wondering who names their male child Dove of all things.

Ruby let her sight rest on her comrade as she went up to the arena, but kept the conversation going; “I’ve heard that saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’ before, and you probably didn’t mean any harm. My sister and I tend to say some things before we think.” She paused, then drove them elsewhere. “Your weapon seems unique. Tri-forms are pretty rare nowadays.”

Obaz brought out the Mk. III, for once seeing something he could actively talk with someone about. “I built it myself at the Petto Automotive Factory... I intend to make some adjustments in the next few days. The spear form is overshadowed by the flamberge; the flamberge carries more strength behind swings and stabs alike where the range difference is too little in the spear’s favor. A short-ranged alternative would be better... Instead of a hydraulic piston slide and spear shaft, an integration of segmented teeth mounted on a lockable shift belt...”

Ruby’s eyes were lighting up as he went on; the terminology that she never found in anyone else was pouring out of Obaz’ mouth like a fountain. Yang had limited knowledge here, but most were like Jaune, hardly knowing the difference between a high-impact sniper rifle and any other gun. Nothing like the expertise she and Obaz could seemingly share; Ruby began to test the waters, making sure she wasn’t beyond him still;

“Crescent Rose has a compact HPS in the shaft as well. If you want something that can weaponize the hand guard, a lockable shift belt would be good, but couldn’t you go with a cylinder twist chain? And it looks like it could also support some radial bearings; that’ll add some oomph to the swings when it loses the momentum it gets from its length.”

Obaz’ fingers were drumming on the side of his leg when he heard her finish, and she began to giggle in her head with glee when he met her expectations; “I was already considering a symbial cylinder twist chain and shift belt, and though radial bearings would make a good buffer zone, any damage it may take throughout a prolonged fight may loosen them, causing difficulty in form switching and possibly frame stability when in gun form. I was thinking more along the lines of amp latches behind the guard when making up for loss in power.”

He listened to her give her opinion of his ideas, and soon his curiosity she had commented on earlier came back; “Might I take a look at Crescent Rose?” She looked less than eager to comply.

“Erm... Okay, fine- hand me yours first. What’s it’s name?”

“Ascalium Galbide, Mk. III.”

Ruby showed little enthusiasm for his naming sense, taking the Mk. III as she handed off Crescent Rose somewhat begrudgingly. When he released it into scythe form, she got anxious, but he held it with cautious deliberation like a fellow smith would. She could definitely get along with Obaz when it came down to this subject, considering she was already feeling the weapon was safe in his hands when oftentimes she wouldn’t let her own teammates pick her up.

“This is a remarkable piece of equipment. I am quite impressed.” Ruby admired the efficient use of the many pieces of Mk. III when she noticed there were no traces of manufacturer tags, no signatures to find.

“Did you make this entirely from scratch, Obaz?”

“Yes. The production time beginning with planning stages was seven days, four hours and fifteen minutes.”

Ruby gawked at him for a moment. For one that was amazing. For two the precision with which he followed time was just as amazing. “All that, and you didn’t even give the Mark Three a real name?”

Obaz frowned, which sank her spirits a little. “What tactical advantages would that carry? I created a tool for fighting evil. It needs no anthropomorphism to perform.”

“... anthempo-what?” She questioned the word, but left that behind before he could answer, moving to what she deemed the more important one; “Your weapon is as much your partner if not more so than your teammates, Obaz! You’ll be relying on the Mk. III to get you through thick and thin; wouldn’t you treat any person that you had to depend on like that with some proper respect?” 

Ruby was getting heated, and where normally he would have brushed off what she was saying this reminded him of what he had said to Steven during the initiation; as much as the Mk. III was no living thing, it was created by his hands to meet whatever ends he chose. He was putting his life in its hands, so to speak... He lost the frown he usually held, returning to impartiality. “... I see your point. I will think about it once the modifications are made.”

They swapped their weapons back, and Ruby skipped onto a new topic; “Is your name actually Obaz?”

He quirked a brow. “Are you suggesting I go by an alias?”

Ruby shook her head no, knowing things would go south if she let him continue to think that way; entering Beacon using an alias was practically its own crime. “No, I just thought it might be a nickname. I can’t think of anyone with a name even similar to that...”

Obaz rubbed at his shoulder again as he got past the misunderstanding now easily cleared. “My teammates are of the same mind. I have been planning to research the national origin of my name, but there has been more pressing work to do.”

Glynda’s voice permeated the chamber declaring the class dismissed, and Obaz wasted no time in beating the masses to the door, though unlike most he offered a parting to Ruby instead of merely walking away wordlessly. Ruby reached after him in hopes of prolonging their communications, but he didn’t see the gesture and disappeared in the noise and mob. Ruby’s teammates were the only ones remaining at the moment, Yang meshing her hands behind her head. 

“You were both pretty quiet back there.” She was speaking to Weiss and Blake, the two she and Ruby had had troubles with befriending in the first place. It was expectable, but the silence the two had maintained seemed to be for deeper reasons.

Weiss emphasized what she said with one outstretched hand while the other stayed where it had been crossed with the other; “I’ve met Regis before... My guardians told me to avoid him where possible due to his... infamy. Laera and Sophia seem fine, but I didn’t want him to make any passes at me by joining in.”

“What did you learn about him, Ruby?” Yang and Weiss both looked at Blake with confusion, and she elaborated. “I told Ruby to find out what she could about Obaz when I whispered to her about your ploys. Something about him is familiar.”

Ruby shrugged, “I didn’t get much out of him. He’s really smart, he made the Mk. III at an Automotive Factory... He’s not really prone to sympathy or things outside of efficiency.”

“Was his name really Obaz?”

“He didn’t really answer that, but it sounded like that was the case...” Blake frowned a bit like Obaz had been so constantly.

“Either way, I wanna talk to him about the Mk. III when he modifies it- it sounds like he has some really cool ideas to cover the flaws he came across! A symbial cylinder-belt coupled with amp latches? It’ll be like wah! Whoa-whutchaa!” Ruby made some silly offensive motions with the noises like it would explain exactly what she was talking about. 

“What’s all this, then? What happened to 'eavesdropper', 'bad fighter', and 'really weird'?” Ruby struggled with that, rapidly denying her own hasty allegations.

Weiss interjected; “Well, at least on the last point, they have that in common.”

The two bickered back and forth as they left the class, their other pair right behind them with knowing smirks -Yang's concerns over Ruby's friend-making here at Beacon had just lessened somewhat.


	9. Finicky Fugitives

On the days Beacon’s students had off it was commonplace to see them in full gear outside the school, wandering about; sometimes it was for a simple outing- grab some fresh air, maybe catch a movie or hit the arcade. They were young, after all... However, more often it was for supplies; as Beacon delivered more than enough for students to go on, but the food was oftentimes bland in the cafeteria, and there were few snacks or other such simple pleasures. For this reason team JNPR, or ‘Juniper’, was out and about.

Pyrrha was in the lead here, choosing the best places to get their groceries and supplies for sweet deals while Ren was charged with keeping Nora under something like control. Jaune was left with being the pack mule, as usual. If not for the showy outfit, Pyrrha was turning heads wherever she went for her fame as the record holder for successive victories in the Mistral Regional Tournament, but no one really caught her eye as she enjoyed the time away from school with her allies. 

Their blonde, lightly armored leader spoke up for the first time in a while, at least aside from grunts and groans of effort to carry everything she had purchased; “Can... Can we find someplace to have a break? My legs are gonna give out at this rate...” 

Nora was riding atop Ren’s shoulders, acting like she had to keep watch from her friend the guard tower as they drew a few looks away from Pyrrha with the strange display. She had been running Jaune ragged over the past few hours... Perhaps it was time for them to take a breather after all.

“Alright, Jaune- set things down there. We’ll rest at this bus stop for five minutes.” He made some noise to express his relief when he set down the boxes and bags that amounted to at least twice his body weight, flopping onto the bench Pyrrha had stopped near. Ren sat down also, though Nora remained stubborn to the idea of dismounting her companion.

Jaune was trying to get some talk out of Ren, who was giving one to two words for every twenty from him, and Pyrrha casually watched the foot traffic in either direction passing by them. She remained that way for some time, and had been close to moving her teammates along already when someone finally snagged her attention; there was a glint of brass mixed into the crowd, and after closer inspection of the passerby she saw what looked like a shoulder guard... She hesitated to make a scene, but if her doubts were on the mark this was a person she could not simply ignore.

“Hank Witzer!”

A few of the people passing stopped in their tracks, and the individual she’d picked out did also. The boy had a smoky grey coat zipped up and collar folded, the bottom splaying out over his upper legs. His pants, gloves, and the bands holding his shoulder plate and other gear in place were all shades of brown that complimented a caramel pair of eyes. His belt and boots were both buckled with brass and darker brown in color, the only thing that really contrasted all of this was a deep green in his hair that reached down to the nape of his neck, parted mindlessly and messy everywhere else. He turned back to look at her, a friendly smile on his face;

“Hey, what’s goin-... uh-oh.”

This Hank character went from content to surprise within a fraction of a second, followed closely by misery. Pyrrha recognized him as exactly who she thought he was- meaning their day off just became a day on the job. Jaune was clueless, but Ren had already gotten Nora off of him to stand by Pyrrha, watching Hank closely.

Hank bolted, shoving three people out of his way and onto the pavement or road with disregard as he ran from the Hunters now in pursuit. Ren was fast enough to gain ground on Hank, Pyrrha just behind along with Nora and Jaune.

“Who the heck is this guy, and why are we chasing him?!” Jaune voiced his distress with the situation. Pyrrha leaped over some more civilian obstacles Hank had knocked down with a few sorries in between her clarification;

“Hank Witzer is a student expelled from Beacon last year. Against school policy, he took the equipment given to him by the school, and has been involving himself in illegal activities; so students of Beacon have been told to keep eyes out for him, and to bring him in if at all possible.” She paused, glancing down at her scroll. “I’ve already sent word back to the school as to our location. The teachers should be tracking my scroll as we speak.”

Hank whipped around the corner into an alleyway, releasing the weapon on his back into an enormous spear. The head of it resembled a Phillips screwdriver, where the blade was segmented into a cross shape. The edges reached far back on the shaft, hooking in places to make for a miserable stab wound. There were also hooks set horizontally just below the spearhead shaped much like question marks... at the moment, all he used this for was to pole vault over the fence in the alleyway, clearing it as fast as possible. Ren was already running along the wall over the fence while Hank landed, the huntsman getting too close for comfort.

Hank was hurrying down the alley when Nora and Pyrrha leaped over the fence, Jaune climbing the good old fashioned way. When Ren gained a burst of speed and passed Hank he stopped as an obstacle, Hank retrieving his other piece of equipment from his back; a shield vaguely kite shaped that slid over his forearm with the point forward from his hand. He trucked headlong into Ren, who braced himself with his Stormflowers and managed to hold his ground. Hank battered into him several more times while also slamming the ground behind him with his spear, his aura flashing green off his body and his strikes becoming more rapid and forceful until he knocked Ren off of his feet, running by him quickly.

Ren looked dazed at that, but got up quickly with Pyrrha’s help as they continued to give chase. Hank was still easily within reach since Ren had held him in place for a good amount of time. He yelled in frustration, turning around in his sprint to face JNPR- the hooks at the base of the spearhead shot off on the ends of chains when he pulled a trigger near his grip, spinning the shaft in his one hand allowed the chains to branch out and the hooks to grab onto a fire escape attached to the wall on his right. With two mighty yanks, the first platform of it screeched then crashed off the wall before the four of them, Ren having to catch Jaune by the collar to keep him from being caught beneath. Hank didn’t stop until he booted the fire escape so hard it clattered and screamed against the ground, hurtling for them at a dangerous speed.

Nora swung her hammer into it as it crossed the alleyway, sending it right back toward Hank with even greater force, but he ducked under it as it had gotten height off of Nora’s golf drive of a strike. He caught sight of Miló being thrown straight for him, Pyrrha having predicted how he would dodge the escape and chucking her javelin in hopes of pinning him down. At the last moment he threw himself back in his crouch, sliding in the gravel and evading the attack. Hank stood hastily, breaking away and into an adjoining alley, Pyrrha retrieving Miló.

“I suppose this answers why he’s been so successful in evading Beacon’s grasp.” Ren mentioned as they resumed the hunt.

Pyrrha nodded. “He’s a powerful enemy, but that power comes from his semblance; As long as he carries momentum, his strikes grow faster and stronger. If we can get him to hold still for even a moment...”

/////

There was a T-junction coming up, and Hank took a right- only to almost run straight into some guy sitting on top of a trash can, directly in the center of his path. He looked creepy as hell, black hair swept back and with his forearms resting inwardly on his upper legs. The look in his eyes was enough to halt Hank in his tracks; there was something to fear in the fellow, just what that was he was uncertain.

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?”

“... I’m sorry, what? Okay, look buddy, I’m in a rush here-”

The Stranger shook his head, flicking an index finger back and forth. “No need to worry, Spank- The bush buddies are ‘tied up’ at the moment. Your race is over, my friend.”

“Did you just call me spank?” Hank was ready to step around the can and leave him in the dust, but he didn’t want to get too close; his gut feeling was still telling him this man was a greater predator than he made himself to be.

“’Course I did, that’s your name; Spank Watcher. Your parents must have hated you something fierce, in hindsight. Come on, stay awhile, would’ja?”

Hank leaned backward to look down the alleyway again; no huntsmen or huntresses were dashing down the length, so he figured this nut case must be messing with him a little bit but at least had his problem under control.

“So... Is there something you want from me?” The Stranger chuckled and got off his perch, kicking the can aside.

“Good, good- so you are a man of business after all. Rumors and hearsay can be so misleading sometimes... See, I know you’re in a bit of a pickle, but that pickle is crunchy and succulent like the primest of dills for me. And that’s a flavor I’d like to savor for later than you might be able to cater... Comprendé?”

“No. No, I don’t. Are you touched in the head?” Hank was getting fed up with this idiot. The Stranger shrugged slightly, and then got to the point;

“At the moment, Beacon doesn’t like me. They don’t like you, either, but if they think you’re one of my goons they’ll like you a lot less; they’ll track you more mercilessly, giving me some space to go about my plotting and planning. All you gotta do for me is not get caught... And since Gimble has her eyes on us right now, Beacon will already consider you a connection of mine, so your options are pretty limited. Say yes, I pay you for your deeds in my favor. Say no, you do the job anyway but no moneys. So whaddaya say?”

Hank gave him a suspicious look, not the first he’s gotten; “If that’s the case, what is the point in hiring me? I’m doing this either way, according to you.” He paused. “And who the hell is Gimble?”

The Stranger went on like the second question had never been posed; Ozpin would be proud of the level of nonchalance. “Fact is, If you accept my offer, there’ll be an added extra where I’ll contact you from time to time. I’ll give you a place to go, and I want to be sure you go there... That’s it. 15,000 bucks a pop, just for going places. All I need to know is that you will go where I tell you to. It’s quite important.” The Stranger eyed him for a moment, wondering which he would choose.

Hank had his arms crossed for a minute, but eventually nodded. “You got yourself a deal.” He had been lacking in work lately, unlawful and no- this guy was probably banking on that fact, but there was little choice here, like he said.

The Stranger clapped and jumped from foot to foot frivolously, giving him a wide grin filled with shark-like teeth, making Hank flinch. “Now that’s just perfect. Swimming. Sublime. We need more black-market chumps-for-hire like yourself on these here streets! More I say!” He stopped for a matter of seconds. “And Shmots! You had one job!”

Team JNPR had arrived from behind Hank, who had gotten into a defensive stance next to the Stranger. Shmots was probably the one ‘tying up’ the four students with his wires if the Stranger’s pun fit the bill. Unfortunately, now that he was standing with a set of handcuffs keeping his hands behind him, The Stranger was giving him a stare of overwhelming disappointment.

“Well, time we vamoosed. Lookin’ forward to workin’ with ya, Spank.” He glanced at his original companion now, “Shmots, We’ve been over this. You don’t shift it into high gear and I will burn your cheques with gusto.”

Shmots had somehow removed the handcuffs restricting him in the last few seconds, without Ren even noticing, clapping them on Jaune and performing a back-spring out of his other captors’ grasps to the Stranger’s side. A light smack to the head awaited him.

Hank turned tail and ran for the exit to the alley, while the Stranger leaped straight up onto the building next to him with Shmots following on his wires. JNPR took no time to decide on further pursuit of Hank, bursting out into the streets after the dropout. Pyrrha undid the cuffs on Jaune’s wrists as they went, their leader muttering an apology.

/////

Atop the nearby buildings, the Stranger along with Shmots watched Hank go. Glynda Goodwitch stood at the other end of the rooftop they were situated on, apparently in wait of them. The Stranger spoke to her without actually looking; “So glad you could join us, Miss Gumwatch...” Shmots appeared to note that the line would have been more intense were it not for his comrade’s name calling.

“You are hereby charged with kidnapping of the Heiress to Schnee Dust Co., resisting apprehension, reckless endangerment and assault of Beacon’s students. You are under arrest.”

The Stranger turned around at last, looking her in the eye. She showed no signs of backing down, no faltering. “Shmots. Go.”

The underling didn’t have to be told a second time, leaping down from the building they had just scaled. The Stranger waltzed closer leisurely to Glynda, his hands out to the sides. “If you’re so serious about this... I s’pose I’ll have to show you just how little you can do to interfere.”

Glynda formed a glyph in the air before her, ready to unleash catastrophe here and now, but the belligerence her adversary showed switched to panic on a dime; “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up! I need to put on my serious face. That takes time, you know.” 

She was indecisive for no less than a second before she wreaked havoc over the rooftop, energy pouring out of cracks forming in the concrete and shattering the upper layer into hundreds of misshapen shards of stone, all bursting up at once in a wave headed for the Stranger. He lunged to his right and rolled out of the way, the large number of pointed stones coming to rest at the edge of the rooftop. Glynda controlled the shards to levitate around her in a lazy whirlwind, ready to stream where she pleased while the Stranger got to his feet. 

“Gah, scraped my knee...” His leg had been caught in the wave, the cloth there tattered and gashes all over the calf; it was more than a scrape to say the least. It was also not his knee... What Glynda took notice of was the fact that his injuries were clearly rends in the skin, but he didn’t bleed at all. Was this his semblance at work?

There was no time to let him recuperate; Glynda created a secondary glyph to her left, where violet orbs appeared and homed in on him from there while the earthen storm she willed on came for him from the front. He gripped his forehead for a second like this was all just a simple nuisance, and then held his other hand out in front of him, hand open and palm up. A cyan glow crept up his arm and appeared above his palm, looking like a small globe of his aura which he crushed in his grip. This ignited into a blast of this light, looking like a translucent sphere that expanded from there dissipating a few feet from him in all directions. This energy deflected all of Glynda’s attacks that came in contact; erasing the homing shots and making the many stones scatter around and beyond him. Further than that, the stones lost all traces of Glynda’s control, the aura fading from them and leaving them lifeless once more.

The instructor still had a small maelstrom of the debris from the roof swirling about her, but her eyes were wide with shock. Sealing an individual’s semblance had been bad enough; whatever this field was that he was capable of making cancelled out the effects of glyphs as well as aura itself, whether it were a standalone attack or manipulating objects. The danger this man posed rocketed ever upward each time he appeared... She doubted it could erase her glyphs themselves, and even then she could spawn more, but if he got that close he would use that hand technique...

She decided to keep a distance, casting more long-ranged attacks against him to see how much stamina he had; perhaps these abilities were physically taxing. She hurled the last of her stones in a curving streak to her left at him, while she swung her switch in a haze of violet to form a multitude of smaller spheres than the ones she had sent for him before. The Stranger crushed another blast of aura to divert the majority of all this but had to slip by the remainder physically, closing the distance between he and Glynda in a flash and aiming an open-hand strike at her chest. The litheness he had was not going to let her remain far with her ranged attacks.

Knowing this was not a hit she could afford to take, she caught him by the wrist and led him past her as she moved aside, striking the heel of her boot into the left of his lower back and forming more orbs with a swipe of her wand. He was too close for the time he needed to make the cancel blast, so the Stranger bobbed and weaved between the many projectiles as they chased after him, still reeling from Glynda’s kick. With some well-timed manoeuvres, he took out each orb individually with his hands; though they seared his palms he minimized the damage.

The Instructor was already upon him by the time he knocked out the last of her pests, nailing him in the shoulder and side of the head with two quick hits of her wand as well as a boot to the stomach with those painful heels of hers. He stumbled back, losing his footing on the terrain she had made uneven beforehand and falling to one knee. Glynda brought up a sweeping kick into his jaw, hurling him up into the air to land on his back.

He sprung to his feet, giving her a look of satisfaction with her performance as he took up that odd stance again. Dipping low to the ground, he almost appeared to slide rather than actually move his legs to close in on her once more. She brought up one leg to stop his hand from making contact with her abdomen, slapped his other away from her throat with her switch, and caught the first again by the forearm and redirected it above her shoulder, but he finished by stomping on her foot and biting the hand she held her weapon in. She cried out and dropped it, and he followed up by grabbing the hem of her suit and bottom of her skirt, taking her off her feet and tossing her underhand with a great deal of force into the floor. She landed painfully on her back, but caught herself before she continued to tumble and landed in a crouch.

The Stranger made a mocking gesture from side to side with a wide smile on his face, but the expression faded after a second as his eyes were drawn elsewhere. His arms drooped, and he sagged forward with his head down, seemingly disappointed. “I’d love to stay and chat some more; unfortunately I’ll be meeting with some less than pleasing company if I do. So we’ll just have to take a rain check, sweetheart. I’ll let you know when I’ve got the time for more foreplay, ahright?” He had been backing away from her indolently as he talked, and Glynda was already forming another glyph to stop him when he abruptly changed his course to the right, hopped off the building, and shattered the window next door upon entering. She followed inside the structure, and though she could hear the echo of his laugh he was nowhere in sight, despite the fact that the barren and abandoned abode contained no means with which to hide. She searched for a few more minutes through both hands-on and surveillance, but eventually gave up the fruitless endeavor. He was already long gone.

Glynda looked over the incisions left on her hand by her opponent’s teeth, noting that Ruby had been right on the mark with her observation. Though she had come out on top during their clash, she couldn’t shake the notion that he still hadn’t been fighting her with everything he had. Checking her scroll, she could see that Pyrrha had stopped moving, and her teammates had also... They had most likely lost their quarry as well. Before she could set her scroll aside it began receiving a call from the Headmaster, conveniently for her to answer in haste.

“Good evening, Headmaster. I regret to say that the perpetrator has fled... I have ascertained more of his capability, however.”

Ozpin’s voice came through from the other side, “Good work, Ms. Goodwitch. Fortunately, I have fine news as well- we have a lead as to the man’s identity.”

/////

Team Strength’s time spent at Beacon ran smoothly, but when they took care of menial things like shopping trips to Vale, Steven was less of a leader and more like their mother. They of course liked his cooking, but Helena was drawn to every high-value object like a fly to a lamp, trying to make him purchase albino caviar or specially brazed boneless duck from halfway around the world, each time succeeding in being told to put it back from wherever she got it from. Nicole and Teresa collected things they could eat on the go and bland vitamin and protein supplements, followed closely by hoarding together armfuls of sugary snacks and desserts. They received the same treatment as the princess.

Setting themselves down on a bus bench awaiting the public transport, Steven had a meager selection of things he could make for the next week or two but Teresa curiously rifled through half a dozen bags someone left there. He had been about to tell her much like a parent that these things weren’t hers and that she shouldn’t be touching them when another four Hunters came jogging down the street to stop where they were, the blonde boy at the front snatching away the bag that Teresa was currently investigating.

“I take it you forgot these, Jaune?”

“Oh thank god... It’s all still here Pyrrha.” Jaune took a second to reassure his redheaded companion that their purchases were all accounted for. Only now did he realize there were others in front of him. 

“Steven? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you are, by the look of things. With less weight.” They shared a small laugh; Jaune and Steven were mild acquaintances from a ways back, having met at the same school at a younger age. There were birthday parties and other childish memories between the two, but they hadn’t become actual friends until they met at Beacon and caught up; with Cardin prowling for targets as passive as Jaune, he had been having it hard in the friend department besides Ruby Rose and his own teammates. Meeting with Steven had been a big relief and quite welcome, Steven much the same minus the bullying. Funny enough, Steven was to Jaune basically what Regis was to Cardin.

The two of them kept watch over their goods while the six others mingled; Helena and Pyrrha having known one another from somewhere before and Nora shocked to see a pair as undividable as she and her best friend Ren.

“You’re not legit, are you Jaune?” Steven asked levelly.

“What? Of course I am!” Jaune acted defensive, even hurt by the accusation. Steven remained stone-faced, brow lifted. He wasn’t going to be persuaded by anything short of the truth.

“It’s harder to talk out of when someone knows you from before... This is what I need to do, Steve. There’s no going back.” Jaune replied with low volume. The silence that followed made him think for a moment that Steven really was mad about the fact and would rat on him about it, but he let out a sigh and chuckled.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you pulled off a forged entry, but if you put the effort in to succeed here, then I think you belong as much as anyone else. If you quit, that’s when we’ll have to talk.” Jaune nodded to the two-sentence pact like he was signing in blood.

Eager to change the subject and relieve the tension, Jaune moved on. “How do Helena and Pyrrha know each other?”

“I guess they met up in that Mistral tourney Pyrrha kept winning in. That record she holds? Helena was a close competitor for the title. Last three years or so, I think.”

“... and they’re friends? ” Jaune asked. They were both talking rather seriously about someone Pyrrha had run into that day, but the boys couldn’t hear exactly who from where they sat. Despite the undertone of the conversation, they didn’t appear standoffish.

Steven shrugged, prolonging the gesture. “It’s a healthy respect for one another’s skill. Unlike most people, they seem to know what the term ‘sportsmanship’ actually means.”

The bus arrived at the stop, and the eight of them piled in with country bumpkins Jaune and Steven the designated loading crew for groceries. Apparently Pyrrha hadn’t the intention of using the bus and wanted Jaune to carry the heavy cargo back to Beacon mostly on foot, but they gave chase to some kind of wanted criminal that day and she spared him the workout in exchange for nearly being crushed by a fire escape. That sounded like a fair trade.


	10. Hit the Mark

Matenlock was an heirloom of Sophia’s from her father. She didn’t build it, and had no reason or desire to modify it. She had many necessities for managing and upkeep of her prized weapon, and took to polishing it at a fairly frequent basis.

What she had found Obaz doing with the Mk. III, however, made her think about having him dismantle her family treasure just to see what he could do with it.

They were free of classes today, and with Laera having vanished off the face of campus and Regis being the last person she wanted to spend a day off with, it fell to finding the last of her teammates or the members of team STNH- the latter she had found out left for the city some time ago. After asking around, she found that a number of the students wandering Beacon had seen Obaz headed for the firing range. There were few enough students that wanted anything to do with studies or training on days like this, so it was likely he had gone there for some peace and quiet away from the library for a change. She made a mental note not to step on his toes too much if he even allowed her company to be kept.

When she entered the range, as expected no other students were in sight and the silence was thick enough to cut. Numerous rows divided by small walls on each side lined up parallel to one another, facing the pure white room ahead of them where no targets were in use. The long fluorescent lights lit the room amply, and a number of lockers containing example firearms were lined up against the adjacent wall. Obaz was at the far end of the room, back to her, standing before a large table with a bulky parcel sitting next to his feet. It had already been opened; assumedly the contents were on the table in front of him.

She started walking his way, but slowed when she saw him stir. He looked back over his shoulder, acknowledging her presence briefly before returning to what he was looking at. Making her way to his side, she found a multitude of little bits of machinery sitting neatly organized on the table top, only recognizing them as his Mk. III when she saw the flamberge blade, now a bit thinner and missing the teeth on one side.

“Why’d you dismantle your weapon? Something amiss in there? My dad always said if you hear a rattle or anything you ought to stop as soon as possible and figure it out...”

Obaz shook his head. “Through recent experience in the field I have found the Mk. III is lacking in certain aspects. I am giving the design a complete overhaul- soon you will be meeting the Mk. IV.” She ooh’d with how astonishing he made it sound.

“I am surprised to see you here. Did you seek me out?” He inquired.

Sophia crossed her arms, looking away from the pieces. “Well, yeah. If not you, I’d be wasting my free time on Regis.”

“And he would be too lost in apodyopsis to make for tolerable socialistic relations. I see.”

“... apo-whatsis?”

“Apodyopsis; the act of mentally undressing someone.” They actually had a word for that. Sophia let a round of laughter leave her but came back from it fast when he didn’t laugh with her... he looked over his shoulder again, arms still crossed. Sophia could only think of one reason he would stand here like this, but it was unbecoming of him.

“Are you waiting for someone, Obaz?”

“Yes... Ruby Rose contacted me on my scroll, expressing interest in the modifications we had discussed and asking to see the final product when I received the parts I sent for. How she got a hold of my contact information is unclear... However, I will not dismiss her intrigue in the matter.” He looked back over his shoulder again, seeing the girl in question part the doors and enter the range. She smiled and waved enthusiastically when seeing them both;

“Hi, guys!” Ruby bounced over to the two of them, stopping on the other side of Obaz. She scanned the many parts on the table for a minute, peeling her attention off of them to look at Obaz; “You’re putting it together now? Won’t that take some time?”

Sophia nodded her agreement; Obaz split a glance between them both like they weren’t sure of whom they were standing beside. “I was certain you wanted to see the individual differences before I brought them to use... and assembly will take little time. Observe.”

His hands shot down to the at least three dozen different pieces, grasping a Y-shaped piece first. His right hand flickered between the table and the Y-piece, setting different bits into place incredibly fast. He reached to the box at the far right of the table numerous times, grabbing screwdrivers of different kinds to fasten the parts, but he already had the entire hilt put together faster than Ozpin could drink his coffee. He started having to rotate and balance the work in his left hand as he went on, using allen keys to securely set the handle and a shiny new scope. Finishing with the hand guard now separated at the center, the Mk. IV was completed before their eyes, in less than two minutes. 

“One minute, fifteen seconds. I missed my old record by two seconds... The new parts were a few grams heavier than I imagined.” Sophia was agape, and was only snapped out of her awe by the excited sounds from Ruby on her teammate’s other side- 

“That was so cool! It takes me at least three minutes for Crescent Rose!” The younger girl appeared impressed to say the least, and Obaz was actually smirking a little. There were six leftovers remaining on the table, and Obaz beat Sophia to the answer before she posed the question; “Those are the involved segments of the spear form I could not integrate with the new design. I have plans to form them into a pair of back-up weapons, but the idea still needs adjusting.”

He stepped away from the two of them, making sure he had ample space to unleash the newly improved weapon. He tested the balance of it in flamberge form first, ridged on both sides again due to his adaptation; taking several swings and stabs at the air, it appeared to meet his standards. Thumbing a switch just above the grip, the blade retracted into the main body leaving one third, and the teeth adorning the front edge of the blade migrated down to cover the hand guard, leaving the short sword’s blade straight at the front and jagged in the back. Obaz could swing this form much quicker and closer to himself, choosing to use it more often with the blade facing down from his hand. Lastly, he twisted the grip and separated the hand guard at the center, one side bearing the scope while the other took the blade teeth and covered that half with them as well as the stock of what was now a burst-fire rifle, with a similar clip to the one it contained before but a bit bulkier. The foregrip was no longer removed between forms, located just above the grip on the back and allowing for a different method of holding the blade types.

Sophia gave him something akin to a golf clap, seeing some improvement in his dexterity on top of his prowess with his own tech. Leaning the gun upon his shoulder, Obaz returned his consideration to his present company; “The blade forms are close enough to what I intended. I will be testing the gun form in the range here; but I will first converse with the two of you until satisfied- ignoring you both would be rude.”

Never any delicacy in Obaz’ words. Sophia shifted Matenlock off her back, switching the safety off. “No need for that, Obaz. The gun range is for more than one student at a time, you know- and there’s a competitive scoring system, too.” Ruby slung out Crescent Rose herself, cocking it eagerly. Obaz looked surprised; knowing him he probably used the range only when it was empty like this, so a scoring system in general would have been unknown to him.

“We have completely different firearms. Competitively, would there really be a fair scoring method between the separate courses?” Ruby was already punching some options into the interface attached at the center of the rows, taking a slot at the far end. The area ahead of her section extended much further to accommodate a sniping course, while Sophia took a widening area at the other end of the room. Obaz had one just next to Ruby’s that stayed close to the preset.

“C’mon, Obaz- let’s have a go. It’ll be fun.” He browsed the interface himself for a moment, frowning a bit but eventually nodding his consent to the challenge the two girls posed to him. Setting the timer for ten seconds, he took his place at his own target hall, peeking through his scope. “T minus five.” His competitors quietly conceded him.

The buzzer sounded, the targets appearing in front of each participant, and the shots began to sound immediately. Ruby’s pinpoint strikes were monstrous as her score jumped up by as much as possible with each shot she took, and Sophia’s targets were moving frantically but unable to escape her insane hailstorm of lead that splintered all of them, causing her score to steadily rise rather than by the chunks Ruby’s leaped with.

Obaz, though far more accurate than he had been with a fully automatic firing rate, was still having trouble controlling his aim. He was managing some alright chest shots, but that wasn’t usually what he had sighted... The first of the three rounds hit their mark often enough, but he had a difficult time maintaining stability with the recoil afterward. As he took out more targets and easily fell behind the two, he quickly grew frustrated, clicking his tongue between shots that did not go where they were supposed to. Digging through thoughts and ideas in his brain for some tidbit that could help him here, the irritation only heaped on further until he abruptly had an epiphany.

Lifting the Mk. IV over his head, he held the frame upside-down, bracing it against the top of his shoulders behind his neck. Unable to use the scope now, he began firing again; making even worse shots at first but mere seconds into adopting the stance he had somehow used this to improve his accuracy by an incredible margin. He was catching up to his opponents with haste and had nearly matched Sophia’s scoring when the buzzer sounded, signifying the round was over and the courses halted. He frowned fiercely.

Ruby stepped out from behind her blinders, blowing smoke from the end of her barrel. The score she managed in increments of 100 was 4,800, topping Sophia’s by a full 535. Obaz was behind Sophia’s score by 165 himself, the blonde lazily lugging Matenlock in front of her with a smile on her face.

Sophia looked up to their points as well as the dynamic replay of each of the three while they had fired. Eventually it got to the point where Obaz had decided to shoot a gun without any regard to how one should be shot.

Ruby made a face as she saw it happen; her confusion made apparent by the extension of a vowel. “... Whaaaaaat?...” They both tore their eyes from the screen and looked at him quizzically. Sophia was the one to gesture at the replay in utter bewilderment;

“What in Vytal made you think that up, and more importantly, how did it work!?” Her lack of comprehension here had her rather flustered, and Obaz looked down at his hands as he normally did when a question was tossed at him like a grenade. The soliloquy he was having was a bit deeper than the two of them probably thought, because the root of his actions here were related to a touchy subject that he still hesitated to tell others of. A few days ago he would have simply turned on them and left promptly, but now he was aware the two he was currently with were the two people he had by some means bonded with. If he wanted to change like Mr. Petto had sent him here to do, now would be the most opportune time to put his trust in them both.

“... Would you say I could confide in the two of you?” The verbal grenade had been countered with a curveball, Sophia physically drawing back from the words her teammate spoke. This was very unlike him. Knowing this was a rare chance, she came back from the reaction as quickly as she could, looking at Ruby for a moment.

“Of course you can. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Ruby labeled Obaz with a term he rarely heard, and with such certainty that even he found difficulty questioning whether or not it was true. Friendship was the last thing he attempted to understand, but judging by Sophia’s like-mindedness here, it had happened to him unbidden.

Obaz let a pent-up breath out of his mouth, again referring to his hands like they had the words he wanted written on them. It took him a moment, but he started up; “The reason my precision was suffering was due to my left arm. And the underlying reason for that... Well, that is...” He trailed off, and after another pause he reached his right hand into the collar of his shirt. Eyebrows were raised when he moved something below his left shoulder, and retrieving his hand he grasped his own wrist.

With a grunt and a sharp tug, Obaz’ arm came off.

Sophia was startled enough to jump when it happened, seeing his entire left sleeve empty from roughly halfway down his bicep. In his right hand was a machine in the shape of an arm, where two prongs had apparently been inserted into the flesh; the fingers still twitched slightly... while Sophia had been caught off guard, Ruby had her hands up near her face in attempts to restrain her excitement, which soon wore thin as she squealed with delight and came closer to examine the limb- the last thing he had expected her to do. He held it out for her to see more closely, clarifying as the younger one poked and prodded.

“As you can see, this is a replacement for my missing arm... Unlike a flesh-and-blood appendage, ‘Marreon-37’ is not controlled through nerves... It responds to auric stimulus. A perfect equilibrium of energy must pass through the...” He looked at Sophia, stopping to simplify. “My aura powers it, and it needs to be kept at a differently balanced flow for any given task. Precise work is very difficult to sustain; such as keeping a gun level while recoil from shots piles up, for example. Bracing the gun between my shoulders and my hands, crude and maladroit as it was, eased the strain on my arm, allowing what you just saw.”

Sophia grew a look of pity that made Obaz want to snap at her, but he held the urge in check. “That’s awful... How did you lose your arm?” The words sparked realization in Ruby, causing her to draw back from the limb and look to Obaz apologetically. 

“Oh man, I’m sorry! That probably wasn‘t the best reaction...” Obaz intended to tell the two that this sort of emotional drivel common sense drove them to was exactly what he didn’t want here, but Ruby tilted her head and spoke up before he could formulate the words; 

“Obaz, did you make that thing too?”

There were no imprints of signatures on the arm itself, and it bore similarities to the Mk. IV as well. That certainly explained why... He confirmed the suspicion, reattaching the machine with a wince. “Making weapons was a stretch from an auto company, but where’d you learn to make robotics?”

Obaz flexed his left hand, Sophia strangely fascinated by how natural it looked again. He deliberated on the inquiry a bit longer, but soon said “It was a combination of theoretical application and trial-and-error. Thirty-seven tries yielded satisfactory results, and even then, you see it has a number of flaws.”

“So wait a second- you just... decided you needed an arm, so you taught yourself how to make one?” Ruby leaned his way as she talked.

He nodded curtly. “It was somewhat awkward with only one hand to set to the task, but yes.”

Sophia jumped in with another piece she had gotten of the puzzle that was her comrade- “Is that limb leeching your aura so much that it makes your overall use of it weak?”

“Well, yes. Connecting it to my nerves like an actual arm was impossible, even if my materials at hand were higher quality, so I went with the only other option I could apply. I have explained that to Mr. Petto, but he was so bent on this huntsman idea that he pressed me on anyway.” 

At this part Regis parted the doors and entered the range, catching sight of his other two teammates. He approached and voiced his displeasure at the same time; “There you are! I’ve been bored all day, you know- Laera up in smoke, you two running off to places like this. Cardin’s good company, but these are the days where we should be strengthening our bonds as allies, you know?”

“Speak for yourself, Regis. For both of those.” Sophia immediately shot him down like an enemy fighter, not fond of a word out of their leader’s mouth. Obaz had yet to meet this ‘Cardin’ individual himself, but from what he heard from nearly everyone he could bear talking to he was less than desirable company- and the fact that he and Regis were on good terms made him even more abhorrent in the eyes of his blonde teammate.

Regis passed by Sophia’s cold shoulder like a warm front, smiling at Ruby. “Teaching my friends here a thing or two? They can use the practice.”

“When did you and I establish friendship, Regis? I do not recall such an event.” His leader’s bright and sparkling movie star smile broke like the feeble façade it was when he turned to look at Obaz.

“No, please Obaz. Tell us how you really feel.”

“That is exactly how I feel.” Obaz emphasized the next sentence to a point that had Ruby back away; “I do not like you.”

So there was a time when Obaz would act like a real boy. It was just when a real boy would be inflexible with his team’s leader... Regis’ volume began to rise as he retaliated. “Oh, I see. I get it. The last person you’d want to see is someone you don’t like, after all. I guess you’re just gonna have to deal with it, then- we’re stuck together, you and I. For the record, I don’t like you either.”

“Regis, it’s not like that. Look around; this is a firing range. What guns do you have? Your ranged weapons are throwing stars, and they have a completely different area for stuff like those...” Regis started to calm as he tossed a few poorly crafted pick-up lines Sophia’s way, who responded with comments much like sandpaper. Obaz shook his head, gathering his things and making to leave the range. Ruby snuck up beside him as he left his team members behind.

“What’s so bad about Regis? You sounded ready to knock him flat.” Ruby hadn’t had enough of the questions it seemed.

Obaz’ frown became more pronounced just thinking about how to put this. “Regis is the kind of person that steps on people to get what he wants, and never wants something for very long. That type of destructive person is one I cannot abide.”

Ruby nodded, checking her scroll as it notified her of a message. She and her team were to meet with Ms. Goodwitch at her office within the hour...


	11. What Goes Around

Glynda Goodwitch sat with her hands folded upon her desk, with the Headmaster in a seat just to the side of her. On the other side of the room were four chairs, three of which were seated- Ruby, Blake and Weiss all appeared at least semi-comfortable as far as a silence with the headmaster and instructor could go. Yang arrived minutes after her friends and sister, crossing her legs as she took a seat at Glynda’s gesture.

“The reason I have called the four of you here is because we have discovered just who Miss Schnee’s attacker at the Amber Fields was. And the truth is somewhat alarming... We thought it best to keep you up to speed, in case he appears to you all again.” Weiss looked prepared to go on a manhunt once Glynda so much as spoke a name. Blake was concerned at this point, as it sounded like they were being prepared for his next arrival- meaning the two reputable hunters before them doubted they could intervene well or fast enough.

Ozpin flipped back through the pages in a beige file folder in his one hand, for once his coffee set on the desk. “Khiver Lybel. Twenty-five years of age, blood type... Forget that, let us skip ahead. He is human, as it turns out.”

“Not a Faunus? But I’m sure I saw those teeth...” Ruby felt like she had misinformed her Instructor, but Glynda put her worry at ease.

“Don’t fret, Miss Rose- you were right on the button. I saw the teeth myself... We’ll get to that in a bit. Professor?” Ozpin cleared his throat, flicking to another part of the documents.

“Now, Khiver Lybel... He began as a researcher in the Arms Manufacturing & Development Company Omeghis, a close competitor to Schnee Dust in certain facets of economy- a possible motive for targeting Weiss, but we have no way of knowing for certain... The dangerous things are his areas of expertise; Dust reactivity and Auric channeling. These fields of study are perfect counterbalances to what we teach you as hunters, and Khiver was essentially a scion of them. As you could probably guess, as Omeghis was a militaristic company Khiver personally trained and tested in everything he developed... Much of his research was too advanced to pass to ordinary soldiers or hunters, so much of his results were in himself.”

So Khiver was basically a lot more intelligent than he showed, and knew all the best ways to take down a Hunter. It was no wonder he had mopped the floor with all of them. 

“Three years ago, Khiver was working on a project that had unforeseen side effects on him, causing him to lose his sanity... He was incarcerated at Sliverhang Correctional Asylum, and only a few months ago did he manage an escape. Sliverhang are the ones who approached us with this information when we went digging for Khiver’s identity, as they have been searching high and low for him. From what the Warden told us, Khiver is very unstable; when his arms and legs were bound to keep him from assaulting the other patients, he used the cutlery at lunch to chip away at his teeth until they were sharp, as you saw. They had to muzzle him and keep him in the highest priority confinement since then.”

The last example of his behaviour had everyone present, including Glynda, cringe at the thought of how painful that must have been. Blake interjected before Ozpin could go on, “That does not sound like what we have witnessed so far. Sure, he was... eccentric... but the sort of violence you’re describing is on a whole other level. Khiver seemed to be playing with us, even when we managed to hit him.”

“He is unstable, that much is true, but Khiver’s most common demeanor is contentment due to the treatments he was getting at Sliverhang. This can apparently flip on a dime, though... You should consider yourselves lucky.” Miss Goodwitch looked back at Ozpin, seeing that he was moving on.

“While this ‘Shmots’ character is still a mystery, we do know that Khiver has hired the help of Hank Witzer now as well- so it would not be a stretch to assume Shmots is also a set of greased palms. Did you hear anything that would suggest this?”

Yang’s turn came to contribute; “I heard him say something like that to Shmots. Yeah, if I remember right; ‘I don’t pay you to sit on ass, kid!’... Er, pardon the language.”

Ozpin nodded slowly as she repeated what Khiver had said, confirming his theory. After some more scanning of the documents he held, he closed the folder and set it in front of Glynda, who went to file it where necessary. 

“Yourselves and Team JNPR will be the only two teams kept up to date concerning this matter, as earlier today they were directly involved. Bring it up with them if you wish for the details.” He dismissed the four of them, but when at the door he added; “Surveillance of your Team, and Weiss particularly, will be increased; however it will all be remote, so your studies and missions should remain unimpaired. Remember, the excursion to Forever Fall will be taking place two days from now... That will be all.”

The four girls slipped out of the office, and Ms. Goodwitch started talking to Ozpin in confidence of their privacy. “Something seems off about all of this... there isn’t a single aspect of those fields that could affect mental state, is there?” 

Headmaster Ozpin said nothing.

/////

Obaz crossed into Beacon’s courtyard in front of the main building, and coincidentally he met with someone he hadn’t seen in some time; Steven and his team were just re-entering the school grounds alongside team JNPR. Helena and Pyrrha were having what looked to be a heated conversation, while Nora seemed amused with the twins. Jaune and Steven were heading the eight of them, Steven falling out of his talk with Jaune to take notice of Obaz. He waved, and Obaz looked away while attempting to speed past the group he was close to converging paths with. He failed as Steven sprang forward to force a friendly headlock on him.

“Where do you think you’re going, Obaz? I haven’t seen you since the initiation- and I never got to thank you properly, either.”

“Wrapping your arm around my neck is not the best way to show your gratitude... And I cannot recollect anything you should be thanking me for.”

Steven unhanded the sandy-haired acquaintance, bringing up a hand to scratch just behind his ear. “Well, you pulled me out of the slump, man. What you said to me that day gave me the courage I thought I lost... So thanks for that.”

Jaune paid some attention to the words being passed between them, and when a suitable pause occurred he decided to cut himself in; “So... I’m not sure if we ever met. I’m Jaune- Jaune Arc. I’d say you should introduce yourself too, but anyone in Oobleck’s class knows you well enough. ehehe...” He trailed off lamely, as if being more socially awkward than Obaz was a possible feat.

“And I’m Nora!” Her short episode with the twins fell away when a new person was dragged into their social orbit, Ren close behind as usual. “Lie Ren. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Obaz showed no intent to partake in the introductions, expecting their last member to come up and introduce herself as they seemed to believe was necessary, but she was still talking to Helena. He couldn’t help but listen in when they were so close at hand; “... like I said, we would have had him if it weren’t for this masked boy getting involved. By the time we restrained that one and caught up, he was already talking to the man in the brown coat... After that he had a sure shot to the busy streets.”

Helena sighed. “Okay, fine. I know he’s hard to get a grasp on... Just promise me that you’ll call me if this happens again. I have a few questions to ask him if someone brings him in...”

It was only now that their discussion was at an end that Helena noted Obaz’ existence, revealing it to Pyrrha as well. “Hey, Obaz- It’s been some time. How is Beacon treating you?”

Nicole chuckled from her sister’s side, “If there’s something to say outside of assisting Professor Oobleck in class, getting whipped by Yang Xiao Long and then getting her to agree on a date, it ought to be good.” Teresa sighed, nudging her twin. 

“Those are just rumors, you know. It’s probably not nearly as dramatic as that.” Ren slid his own comment in to partially counter Teresa’s now, “We are in the same history class as Obaz. We were there when Oobleck posed the idea, and it happens still- He likes to yell at Jaune to pay attention.”

Obaz grumbled with the conversation turning to his rapidly spiraling reputation, pinching the bridge of his nose with the frustration. “I have lost to Yang, however I have no intention of being romantically involved with her. I believe she took offense when I made this clear, so she announced our next mock battle as if it were a ‘date’ to rouse envious spite in the other male students.”

“Well that’s kind of uncalled for.” Jaune said.

Steven laughed a bit at this, turning to walk backwards as he spoke. “He might’ve asked for it... Obaz is about as subtle as a cannon in my experience. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

“The assumption of having established friendship seems to run rampant in students of Beacon. When did we ever conclude this as fact?” Obaz had frowned slightly the moment before it was his turn to speak his mind. Steven just laughed again, like the painful riposte was just playful joking;

“See what I mean? He probably said something dickish like that.” They passed through the front doors to Beacon, the two teams bidding their goodbyes as they parted ways. Obaz went to split from team STNH once more, but Steven caught him by the shoulder. “Listen... Could you just tell Laera I’d like to talk to her sometime soon?”

Obaz flicked the hand off his shoulder casually, not keen on wasting any further time. He did stop before leaving Steven’s line of sight entirely; “... Sure.”  
Releasing the chauvinistic Huntsman, Steven was content now that he’d had that one last word with Obaz, but that had been overheard judging by the look he was getting from Helena when he turned around.

“Quite the stud, aren’t you?”

“Have you seen these muscles?” Steven joked back, but his jovial disposition fell away unnaturally fast. “Laera and I have a history that I’m not entirely sure is mine to talk about... I haven’t been ‘involved’ with her or anything, but past that you’ll have to get her to spill it.”

The seriousness and hint of depression in Steven’s voice was a first contact for Helena and the twins, so they knew nothing else to do but back down from the subject. Taking away the jape for an opener, the response had been about as blunt as Obaz would have put it, and he almost felt that if the guy weren’t sent on his way moments ago he’d be patting Steven on the back.

/////

Obaz couldn’t see the smug grin on Steven’s face, but knowing it was there bothered him- so he continued his escape as quick as he could without actually running, quickly making his way into the gym. While the equipment to physically train oneself was abundant here, there were also many areas for exercising aura here. Unexpectedly, while the firing range had been empty this room already had one occupant. Blake Belladonna was sitting in the center of the designated Meditation area; seeing as she was focused at this his arrival hadn’t disturbed her. Without paying her any mind, Obaz switched his shirt to a long-sleeved gray one in the change room nearby and went about the physical aspect of the chamber’s training purpose.

He had done a set of right-handed push ups, left-handed pull ups and some dumbbell curling by the time it seemed Blake took notice of having company. One of her eyes were open a crack, watching him closely... His patience was already wearing thin with this, being the only thing the girl had done in his presence thus far. Once he had been hanging upside-down from a rope with his legs and doing crunches in that position for a time, he spoke up; “What is it- That has you- staring at-... me as if I-...... am planning to do something unfavorable?”

Blake fully opened her one eye now, the pause in Obaz’ words growing longer with each rep he did. He soon stopped and hung there, staring at her in expectance, causing her to sigh and turn in her seat to face him. “I don’t normally pry like this... but why do you always wear that hat?”

“I see... It carries sentimental value, I suppose you could say.” Obaz paused, looking at the empty doorway but dropping his voice nonetheless. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am not a Faunus like yourself.”

Blake was visibly caught off guard by the statement, though she contained that very well. “How did you know?” Obaz flipped back upright, sliding down the rope and sitting bowlegged on the floor.

“Your ribbon is a clever disguise for your ears, but certain voices that grate you cause them to twitch, giving them away. You also carry yourself in a way humans find difficult... What little I saw of you could only be compared to traits of a feline. Is that the right guess?”

Blake nodded, although that look in her eye had returned. He frowned. “If you had denied the allegations I made, I would have believed you, you know. Considering Ruby’s cape seems to move with no rhyme or reason, applying the same to your bow would not have been tenuous... I take it this is something you plan to hide even still?”

“Well, yes. I’m not sure if you could understand my reasons, but I do have them.” She glared at him with an irritable expression, one that he was affected by in a way he could not describe. It was clear she wanted to know whether or not he would keep his mouth shut; Obaz looked at his hands for a spell, tilting to look her in the eyes again.

“I have no cause to tell others what you struggle to conceal. Consider it under lock and key.” Blake made a strained face, trying to gauge his sincerity but having less to go on with him than others. 

Soon, she seemed relieved -at least a bit, anyway- carrying the conversation elsewhere. “You may not be a Faunus, but you do seem familiar... have we met somewhere before?”

“I do not believe so.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

Obaz’ frown deepened; a common thing to happen at times like this. “As far as my memory serves, we have not met before attending Beacon. And likely you know my memory serves quite well... but I will not consider that definitive. To assume there is no room for flaws would be inviting one.”

Blake could see his point here, watching as he stood and turned toward the change room he had left his huntsman gear inside of. Hesitating with his hand on the doorknob, he turned his head slightly. “I am not sure if your reasons have any relativity to your teammates, however they seem... trustworthy. I would not keep secrets from them long, as you will inevitably let slip what should not.”

He vanished behind the door, and soon after reappearing took his leave. Blake continued to meditate... Obaz’ advice was sound, she could see it plainly, but was it advice she could bring herself to follow?

/////

Much later that night, Laera returned to Beacon. She was aware that she needed to shower, change, and sleep, and had little time to do so. First she would have to grab some extra clothes from the dorm, so she tentatively opened the door a crack. It seemed Regis and Sophia were asleep; she had to be cautious in order not to wake them.

Once she got past the door, she turned to shut it and in doing so, saw Obaz sitting cross-legged on top of the desk he had moved to the corner of the room. It was somewhat close to the door, and his head was turned to look straight at her. She practically had a heart attack there and then, but he didn’t so much as twitch when she willed herself silent but nearly jumped right out of her skin. Moving closer, Laera waved a hand in front of his face. Was he asleep after all?

“Yes, I am awake.” Laera jolted again, not having expected his voice let alone lack of hush in it. She would have made haste to grab the clothes and scram, but Obaz uttered the one thing she hoped he wouldn’t; “What exactly is it you are wearing...?”

So Obaz didn’t sleep, acted like a gargoyle of study desks come sunset, and happened to have night vision. Just great... Laera anxiously shushed him, grabbing his arm and leading him off his perch to the door. If they were going to talk, they would have to do it outside.

In the hallway, she shoved him against the wall, though delicately enough not to make a commotion. His eyes were adjusting to the light however dim it was, but he could see rather clearly now his teammate’s attire for what it was... which was neither a Huntress’s equipment nor anything vaguely close to a uniform.

No, what Laera was wearing was not much at all; a tank top that stopped somewhere middle of the ribs, with a jacket equally short but long in the sleeves made up of black leather. She had shorts on of the same material that could hardly be considered shorts considering her thighs were almost radiant in the dark, leading down to heavily laced boots that matched all of this. Various chains and accessories were loaded into a plastic bag she carried so they made less noise, whatever make-up she had on was bright like neon and made rainbows look dull, and her hair was done up in pigtails lined with equally colorful streaks.

Laera unhanded him, crossing her arms over her belly. If she were trying to hide the overexposure, she had a difficult goal ahead of her. “Look, I was just out at a club... I do this sort of thing a lot. Would you mind keeping this between us?”

“Why?”

She looked at him like he was using the alphabet to count. “What do you mean ‘why’? I have an image to maintain for Beacon’s name. And I’d prefer to do what I like without having Regis drool every time I walk by... Well, more so than now.”

“... Good enough. Will you be reasonable enough to refrain from these activities when a mission is coming up?” It was like he wanted her to hit him. They had gotten off on a good foot, but she had never imagined Obaz was so abrasive.

She sighed, brushing some hair over her shoulder. “Yes, Obaz. That’s a given.” He nodded slightly, then slipped back into the dorm room, motioning for her to stay put for the time being.

Why was he having her wait out here? Laera felt too revealed already; what if someone were to get up for a drink right now? She had time to mumble in anxiety for only a minute before he returned, carrying her pyjamas as well as a sheet of paper folded up. He held both out for her to take.

“You are somewhat inebriated judging by the way you sway when standing straight. Regis should be waking to get a snack in ten to fifteen minutes, so you should use the public facilities.” She stared at him dumbstruck.

Obaz continued; “That sheet contains the common night-time habits of all tenants of this wing of the school, teachers included. It should help you come and go with significantly less risk.”

Laera began to walk away, pocketing the slip which she noted was handwritten. She turned back to address him just before he opened the door to the dorm again, smiling; “Thanks, Obaz.”

“Be wary this time of night... The streets can be more dangerous than any den of Grimm.”

Laera listened to the soft click of the door shutting behind him, and carrying on down the halls she checked the sheet he gave her to evade any possible night owls- maybe Obaz wasn’t so bad. Though she never told him where she kept her pyjamas.

It was difficult to pin that guy to any judge of character.


	12. Tell Me

“So anyways, everything’s fine over here. There are two boys on my team, but they’re nothing worth mentioning... Oh, Sophia’s alright. She’s a little tomboyish but it’s the endearing kind, not overboard or anything...”

Laera was laying across her bed, having woken up late today and skipping all of her classes. She was talking loudly over her schnellphone; by the sounds of it updating someone close to her about her recent endeavors at Beacon. Obaz was sitting at his desk, having taken care of everything required of him in his last class for the day about fifteen minutes in and leaving early.

“Regis. From the Agemont family? Yeah. Yeah, don’t worry- this is one safe he isn’t going to crack. Last but not least is Obaz, and-... Mhm. Yeah, that’s him. How did you-?” Laera moved her phone from her ear, looking at it quizzically.

“Obaz... It’s for you.”

“Is it your father?”

Laera blinked several times. “Yeah.”

He took the phone from her outstretched hand, answering with his normal monotone. “Hello, Mr. Daylight. How is the wife?... Yes, good to hear. No, Laera has caused no trouble thus far. Thus far being the operative words... No, that was not a joke. You can stop laughing... Business? I am somewhat busy; summarize as best you can.”

Obaz drummed his fingers on his knee as there was a silent moment, soft murmurs from the phone’s speaker all that could be heard. Laera lay on her front with her head in her hands and her feet kicking behind her idly.

“It sounds to be a lack of compression. Ask for the piston rings and cylinder to be checked, and replace all of the valves if the problem persists... Yes. Your patronage is appreciated, as always.” His mouth, straight as the horizon, started to bend at the sides.

“What?... No, I have not considered your daughter for such things. What do you mean, taste? If she has a discernible taste, I have not tried it, nor do I plan to. And the hair color of a woman does not determine whatever... flavor... they may be; whatever your sources, that is simply baseless conjecture... Regardless, I have not ‘set my sights’ on Laera, rest assured. Yes, I plan to keep her safe when it is within my power to do so. Here she is.”

Laera’s expression was torn between amusement and embarrassment as her father had such a transparent conversation with her teammate on her phone, watching as Obaz wrapped things up as fast as possible to hand it back to her. She carried on with the chatter, and soon her father was saying things that she seemed to find hilarious, much to Obaz’ dismay. ‘Of all the things she could have inherited from that man, it had to be his laugh...’

Eventually, she did put things to rest with a final good-bye. Once the phone was hung up, she brought Obaz back into the picture; “I should’ve guessed that you of all people were my dad’s go-to guy for his car.” Her teammate shrugged, and she continued. “If you’re that good at auto work, why would you give that up for being a Huntsman? Sounds to me like you were a lot better at that.”

“My Boss at Petto automotive wanted someone to carry on his legacy, but his biological children all passed away some time ago. He considers himself my adoptive parent, to which I was grateful, though he pushed me into this by cutting off my options.” He had begun writing papers when she took the phone back, and as he spoke now the sheets were finished and stacked faster and faster.

Laera attempted to pry a little deeper, as this was the kind of juicy information that she treated like sweet candy; “So... You don’t consider him your parent, adoptive or no?”

Obaz stopped what he was doing, glanced over his shoulder, and sighed. “That reminds me... Steven would like to talk to you at your earliest convenience.”

That reminded him? He didn’t need reminding of anything- he must have been saving that in the back of his head. Just when she thought she would get somewhere with this guy he built a wall between them without any warning.

Needless to say, Laera’s mood fell straight down. “You can tell Steven that I won’t be talking to him, then.”

“You can tell him that yourself. I will not be the postman between you two.” Not having known the circumstances between Steven and herself, he had all the justification to say that. She gritted her teeth.

“Fine. You want to know why I won’t talk to Steven?”

“That is none of my concern.”

“I used to date his brother, and-”

“Congratulations. That must have been nice.”

She was ready to break all those important little fingers of his. “Can you be any more of a disinterested bastard?!”

Obaz turned in his chair. He was smiling. While before she would tease that he should flip that frown of his upside-down, the result seemed so lacking in joy that it appeared worse. “Yes, I can be. But not you; someone who shows interest for the sake of knowing. I won’t tell you things best left unspoken just because you tell me such things recklessly. I’ve had enough of secrets lately.” He paused now. Laera was shaking with grips on her bedcovers.

“... This is not so much an issue of trusting you- as that is something I would like to do. It is an issue of time. I apologize for being a... tough nut to crack, but if this goes on we will have a trust built out of favors and dirt.” Her breathing deepened as he spoke with a softer tone. 

The sheets whispered as she threw a miniature temper-tantrum on the bed without really making much noise herself before she got up and sped to the door, closing it behind her. Just as quickly she walked back in, the energy she had seconds ago gone, and crashed into her bed to take the same position she had earlier, only backwards. Obaz eyed the door curiously.

The words that mumbled through the wooden object explained the whole situation before the words were even finished; “Laera...? Could you let me in for a minute?” It was Steven’s voice. His timing could have been sung about.

“Enter if you wish.” Obaz said.

“Don’t do that. Warning you.” Laera bleated.

Obaz got up from his desk, opening the door to see Steven’s anxious face. He could feel the gaze burning through his back and into the other man she seemed disparate to. “Laera is not in the best of moods. Would you like to see her at another time?” Like an impersonal answering machine.

Steven leaned to look past Obaz, but ultimately gave up. He turned to walk away, but handed him a trinket of some sort first. “Just have her hang on to this for me.” And with that, red Plaid vacated the hall nearest their dorm. Obaz peered down at the mystery item in his palm, taking in the sight of some eight-pointed star roughly the size of his thumb; it must have been the sort of thing attached to an earring. Or bracelet. Or phone strap. It was a trifling something-or-other.

Strolling over to the side of Laera’s bed, he held out the object for her to take. She was half-absorbed in the thick sheets and pillows, her one visible eye trying to learn how to shoot lasers at men that drove her mad. Obaz placed the item on her nightstand, and muttered something she missed as he left the room himself; it was only after he was gone that the girl picked the item up, and held it close to her chest.

/////

Steven left the halls and went about his own business, knowing Obaz would spend at least a minute or two trying to figure out what the little star was actually meant to be or what it was supposed to be attached to.

“What did you do that made her so angry?”

He nearly jumped out of his shoes when Regis came up behind him and asked the question. If he had been coming toward the dorm just now he would have seen everything, and choosing not to enter right now seemed wise.

“... It’s what I didn’t do, really. You’d have to ask her herself.”

Regis frowned. “I don’t really want to know that bad. I just want to get her to stop being... like that.” He paused, and then requested a look at Steven’s scroll. Regis established a link between their devices.

“I don’t want to get too involved personally, either... but if in some instance you need help patching things up with Laera, count me in. As a member of her team and the leader no less, I can arrange meetings and other such things –and she’ll be none the wiser ‘til she sees you.”

“Wow... that’s pretty decent of you, Regis.” Steven gave him a smile of appreciation. It fell away shortly after the response he got.

“Afterwards, if you can hook a brother up? Helena’s pretty hot. I wouldn’t mind one of the twins, either.”

/////

Obaz hadn’t many reasons to leave the school, but there were times when he went out for one very particular meal; breakfast at Lani’s Plate. Lani’s Plate was the diner that he ate the same order of two chocolate-chip pancakes, a side of bacon and a tall glass of chocolate milk at for the last few years he had money to spend. He did it at least once every two weeks, and he could also get breakfast at any time at Lani’s. Breakfast replaced whatever meal of the day he cared for it to.

The diner was placed right at the street corner, window seats normally three-quarters full on a busy day. The indoor decor was white and red, not really in a Christmas fashion but close. The seats were comfortable, and the food was generally good, though not spectacular. One in every three men came just to ogle the waitresses, the Plate not having any male servers.

The main reason he came here was because he had a self-imposed exchange custom with one of the waitresses here; the one that had been kind to him when he was poor. She had done him a great many favors when he needed to know how to talk to people with any form of tact...

The woman in question brought over his plate bearing a special they had christened with his name, and sat down across from him. Her hair was done in a French braid thrown over her shoulder, black in color, and her face had a generous number of freckles. Her work uniform had short sleeves and a moderate skirt, white over beige. She knew there was something he was here for, as he never came without a question for her. “So what’s troublin’ ya, Bazzie?”

Hearing the childish nickname always made him cringe the first time. “Listen, Chel... I do not understand these ‘partners’ at Beacon, let alone half the other students. All of them act as if my life is something I should hand out written as a memo... Always asking me questions, trying to know more about a past I would rather forget, were I able to. What is the point?”

“You don’t really say why you worm out of those kinds of questions though, do you? You just walk away, or change the subject, I bet.” She had her chin propped on one hand, smiling. She did so whenever she already knew how the rest of the conversation would go.

“Why should I? That is yet more of my business. If I have my reasons, I have my reasons. Afterward they just take that as some kind of sign to question that first.” He looked irritable, cutting a piece of pancake and chewing the soft food more than it needed to be.

Chel chuckled a little bit, having missed giving this sort of advice to the boy. “That’s exactly what it is. Normally when people make friends they learn about each other, but when someone shuts them down it’s just inviting them to find which door to knock on first. Unlike you, who sees a yellow light and screeches to a halt.” She got out of her seat, making to leave the table in spite of Obaz’ glare. “Look, I still have a job to do. If you’re not satisfied, we’ll talk a bit more once I get you the check. Okay?”

She brought herself over to another table, and Obaz mulled over her analysis in silence and the taste of bacon. Perhaps he had been too obstinate after all; telling others about your troubles at most establishments had gotten him a few more when he lived on the street, sure, but Chel made it sound different for middle and upper-class. These were grounds he never made himself familiar with even when he joined the ranks of the self-supported.

“Mind if I sit here?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds just like you, haha...” someone he did not know cast aside his animosity and sat where Chel had been a minute ago. Obaz didn’t look up from his food, taking a drink to wash down. After a time, he felt his hat flicked at the brim, knocking it off his head- Obaz caught it behind his back with his left hand, finally looking at the Stranger.

A man with black hair swept back and blue eyes sat there. Warning signals were going off in Obaz’ brain left, right and center; most of them suggested he get up and leave. “I thought you looked familiar. What’ve you been up to, Pierce? Here I thought you were dead...”

Obaz kept his poker face in line with success professional players would envy. “That is not my name. I believe you have me confused for another.”

“No, no, no- you’re definitely Pierce. Unless you changed your name? All the reason to, that you had.” He occasionally showed pointed teeth when he enunciated a word strongly. Obaz suppressed a shudder.

“My name is Obaz.”

He stopped smiling for the first time since he sat down, and soon the Stranger covered his lower face with his hand, looking distraught. He mumbled something about it being terrible, but finally slapped his hands obnoxiously on the table a couple of times, startling the other customers and almost making the remaining half of Obaz’ meal fly off his plate.

“Damn, that is just awful kiddo- a true travesty if ever I heard one. Funny as it is... Look, last thing I wanna do to ya is wrap you up in things you finally thrashed loose from, but your ass seems like it’s had enough of jaws clamping down on it. So, I’m gonna give you a little piece of advice, yeah?”

Obaz was readjusting his cap upon his head, but froze when hearing the last of the Stranger’s words; “When you can’t make sense of it all you’ll just have to do what you do best, Pierce- remember. Also, me first.”

The Stranger got out of the seat in front of him and stepped back into the traffic area. He stretched a leg, tripping the waitress walking past him and catching the parfait she was carrying on a tray. 

“Deuces, kiddo.”

If this hadn’t been subtle enough, the man tore out as fast as he could, but not before stopping and scooping the cash register at the desk near the entrance into one arm as well as disconnecting it from the wall. He jumped out with a deafening crash through the window even though the door was next to it and unlocked, causing an uproar of panic from the customers and workers alike.

Obaz stared in the direction the Stranger had escaped, as if it would bring him back. Needless to say that didn’t happen, although Chel was immediately by his table. “Bazzie, are you okay?! Who was that nut?!”

“... I am not sure.” He motioned for her to give him the check, eating the last of his bacon.

/////

Obaz re-entered Beacon grounds after dusk, having wandered for a time to do little more than think. Exploring the halls on the way to his team’s dorm room, he stopped by one of the many T-junctions upon hearing voices; it sounded like... Ruby and Jaune.

“... I messed up. I did something I shouldn’t have, and now Cardin’s got me on a leash, and Pyrrha won’t even talk to me... I’m starting to think coming to this school was a bad idea.”

There was an audible thump and squeak as Jaune bumped the surface he was standing near and slid down it, to a sitting position no doubt. “... I’m a failure.” He said it with a great deal of conviction. Obaz was tempted to believe it.

“Nope.” Ruby’s tiny voice swatted that conviction down like it weren’t there.

“Nope?”

“Nope. You’re a leader now, Jaune. You’re not allowed to be a failure.” That sounded like flawed logic. The boy could very well be a failure, a right bad one too.

“But... What if I’m a failure at being a leader?” Jaune had never gotten on the debate team by the sounds of it.

He heard a short pause to think before Ruby offered another; “Nope.”

“You know... You’re not the easiest person to talk to about this kind of stuff.” Spilling your thoughts was easier than this? The blonde’s standards sounded far too high. Obaz drummed his fingers on his leg, wanting to get something in edgewise but suppressing the urge.

“Nope.” Obaz masked his own smack to his forehead with the predicted thump of Jaune’s down the hall.

“Jaune, maybe you were a failure when you were a kid... and you might’ve even been a failure the first day we met. But... you can’t be one now. You know why?” Obaz could think of five reasons right now outlining why Jaune could fail at just about anything being the leader of a team entailed.

“Uhh... Because-”

“Because it’s not just about you anymore. You’ve got a team now, Jaune- we both do... And if we fail, we’ll just be bringing them down with us. We have to put our teammates first... and ourselves second.” He could hear one of them standing, likely Ruby from the fabric sound and lack of some armor.

She went on; “Your team deserves a great leader, Jaune... and I think that can be you. Have a good night, Jaune.”

Jaune sounded like he had stood up now, and seconds after Ruby’s door had shut there was the beeping of a scroll notification. The hushed sound of it opening was a prelude to a message;

“Heeey. It’s your buddy Cardin. I know you’re probably busy with that dust project I gave you, buuuut I’m gonna need you to go out and get me a bag of rapier wasps.” That sounded lovely. Jaune made a sound roughly the same as Obaz’ mental sarcasm.

“And make sure they’ve got some reeeaaally big stingers. It’s important, so don’t screw this up.” Jaune sighed and he could hear the word ‘defeated’ hung on the breath. Before he could move, Jaune had walked around the corner and seen him with an expression that went from downcast to startled.

“Gah! O-Obaz?!...” He trailed off. Obaz merely stepped aside to let him by, and Jaune went back to his walk of shame. The blonde didn’t get very far before Obaz spoke;

“Being ordered around by others does not sound like the obligations of a leader.”

Jaune looked back at him with indignation. “Were you listening?”

“I am prone to such things when the opportunity presents itself.” Obaz paused. “Do you believe what Ruby says?”

Jaune looked down and to the side, putting his hands on his sides. “... I don’t know what to think. What she says makes a lot of sense, but I’m in a bind- I’m not sure if I have a choice but to fail here.”

Obaz rubbed his left shoulder, tilting his head to the side. “There is always a choice... I would guess this is a matter of blackmail?” Jaune looked taken aback, proving the guess a sound one.

“Blackmail is a horrid thing... There is no way out of it without some sort of loss. You need to come to terms with that.” Jaune clenched his hands into fists. Obaz shook his head, trying to think of a better piece of advice.

“Would you prefer this ‘Cardin’ character continue these activities at your expense? If you continue to listen to him, your situation can only worsen on top of whatever he has holding you under his sway. Sacrifice what you have; you have plenty of time and strength to build another life.” It was the most sensible and quickest way out; but it made it no less difficult to choose.

Jaune thought for a long period, but shook his head eventually. “I can’t let him take this from me. I just can’t...” He sounded adamant about this. Obaz hoped in the back of his head that this one somehow made it out of this dilemma with the help of some miracle.

He shrugged to him, passing him by to head his own way. Jaune walked beside him for a time in silence, but when it came to their paths diverging Obaz added an afterword; “Being backed into a corner brings out the best in a person sometimes. If you keep your priorities straight, you should be fine- and it sounds to me that Ruby made sure of that.”

Jaune managed to will up a grateful smile to point at Obaz before he left. The direction he headed was to leave Beacon grounds- to find a place selling Rapier wasps, no doubt. Obaz intended to rest at his desk for the next few hours... Only Jaune could decide what was most important to him here.


End file.
